Choices and Chances
by SaraiMichelle
Summary: *Sequel to You Can't Kill a God* Four years after learning her relation to the Spencer line and falling for Albert Wesker, Sheva Alomar thought she was past all of that and was living a good, normal life. But when Wesker is woken up from cryogenic sleep, Sheva is thrown for a loop when she sees Wesker has changed, for better or for worse. Sheva/Wesker, OOC at times, AU. Enjoy!
1. It Started With a Dream

**1. It Started With a Dream**

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_**Important:**__ I strongly advise if you have not read the first story in this series, 'You Can't Kill a God', to please read that one first and then come back to read this one. This is indeed the sequel and if you have not read the first, you will be greatly confused. There are a lot of errors and typos in the first, so I apologize now. I'm doing my best to avoid that in this one. If you have read the first, please read on and I hope you all enjoy nonetheless if you've read the previous one or not. Thank you for reading!_

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_It was so cold. Why was it cold at the beginning of July? People around her looked fine and completely well with the temperature. Why was she so cold?_

_Teeth chattering, Sheva Alomar held her torso tightly in her arms as she watched one taxi pass after another, leaving her in the dust. When she was sure her toes were going to have frost bite on them, she held her breath as she stepped to the edge of the sidewalk with her thumb held up from her fist to signal for a cab. It only took ten seconds to get one, but when she opened the car door and was about to step in, a woman of blonde hair slipped passed her and took the seat in the taxi before Sheva could._

_"Hey, this is my taxi," Sheva forced out of her dry lips and parched throat._

_The woman didn't acknowledge her as she grabbed the inside handle of the door and pulled it shut, cutting off any more protests Sheva might utter from her freezing body. The taxi took off to blend with the other yellow vehicles, leaving Sheva still standing on the edge of the sidewalk with no car to offer her a ride home and a small moment of warmth inside the metal moving box. That was the first taxi she had been lucky enough to hail in the past twenty minutes and it was gone._

_Feeling defeated and invisible, the option to just walk came up again, so she took it...again. Her first step was terribly excruciating on her feet, the pain shooting up through her body. The adrenaline that would regularly numb all pain had worn off and now the agony was all she felt. Well, not really. She felt it when a man shoved past her, pushing her so much she fell to the ground on her hands and knees. The cement under her body looked warm and the small reflection of the sun in the glass particles shined in her face. _

_Why was she so cold?_

_Her joints screamed internally to be kept still as she pushed her body up from the ground, getting to her feet. As she swiped her hands on the front of her shirt, the sound of a voice calling her name filled her ears, becoming the only thing she heard. She turned to look to her left and gasped to see a long alleyway leading far down until there was what looked like a tall, lean figure. This silhouette was the one calling her, but the octave of the voice didn't match the build of the figure. The voice was more gruffly and masculine. But this figure was lean and tall, making her picture a more smooth and maybe even nasally voice to come from a physique such as the one she saw. The curiosity to know who this person was to call her name caused her to turn and slowly step down the alleyway, her teeth chattering and feet shaking as they lifted to take a step._

"_Sheva, run!" the voice shouted, going in and out like static waves._

_Though the voice told her to flee, she kept on with the determination to know who this was. As she got closer, the figure to call her seemed to take large but slow strides towards her. Soon she could see some detail on this figure. This person had long legs, broad shoulders, and a square jaw that caught hints of light in the alleyway. When Sheva blinked to see golden blond hair on the top of this figure's head, they started to morph. They became shorter, hair changing to a reddish shade, and their skin a milky white in the dark._

"_Goddammit, Sheva. Run!" the voice bellowed again, this time sounding clear._

_Finally, Sheva halted. But this figure kept coming towards her, soon breaking out in a sprint. As their arms and legs moved swiftly, the body began to grow considerably. This person began to transform into something ugly and dangerous._

"_You should have listened," the monster growled, coming towards her even faster. "Now I can't stop it."_

_Motor functions seemed to kick in as Sheva started taking steps backwards. Her heart pounded in her chest when something cold and hard kept her from retreating anymore. As she looked back, something that sounded like a whimper escaped her lips as she took in the sight of a tall brick wall that seemed to have magically appeared, blocking her only get away from the monster coming for her._

_A scream sounded from her freezing body when the monster was suddenly in front of her and punched the bricks next to her head. Expecting to be hit in the face this time, Sheva was surprised when nothing happened. She looked up to the monsters face, feeling saddened as the monster seemed to frown at her, its eyes changing from red to blue._

"_Can't…s-stop it," the monster wheezed as he squeezed his eyes closed._

"_Who are you?" Sheva probed, her chattering teeth clicking. "What are you?"_

_Before the mutation could answer, his eyes opened quickly, revealing red penetrating orbs. Pulling his clenched hands high above his head, the monster growled loudly as it stared at Sheva intently. Sheva saw his hands coming down to smash her when she quickly closed her eyes, hoping the blow would be quick and painless._

"Sheva? Sheva, answer me. Are you all right?"

Jolting to sit straight with a stiff back, Sheva gasped to be woken up from such a nightmare. With a suspicious eye, she looked around to find comfort that she was actually sitting in her dimly lighted office and not in some dark alleyway. She jumped when she heard a quiet voice calling her name.

"Sheva, answer me, please. What's wrong?"

When she realized it wasn't a quiet voice, but rather someone talking on the other line from her cell phone, she picked up the device that had being laying lazily on the scattered papers of her desk. A sigh slipped past her lips when she held the cellular to her ear.

"I'm sorry, Chris. I fell asleep," she whispered, rubbing her eyes awake. She could hear him take a deep breath of relief, maybe even a small whimper. But she wasn't too sure. She was still incredibly exhausted and shaken up from the nightmare.

"God, you scared me. I could hear you shivering and then you screamed. Are you all right? Tell me you're all right," his voice was desperate.

"I'm all right, honey. It was just a nightmare, I promise."

He chuckled a humorless laugh. "Must have been some nightmare. You stopped talking and then you wouldn't answer for about five minutes. Are you sure you're all right? You were asking someone who they were."

Having must fallen asleep while talking to him, Sheva was surprised she had only slept for five minutes. I felt like she slept all night. She told Chris she was fine again, telling him it was a silly dream that she was just happy was over. It was an odd nightmare, one she had never had before. She was so very rarely frightened by a dream, but this one felt so real. She could almost still feel the shivering in her body even though she was in a warm room.

"So, what are you doing now?" Sheva asked after she yawned, looking at the clock on the far wall in front of her that read _one thirteen_ _am_. She could hear shuffling in the background.

"I'm just waiting for Director Tung to send an escort to take me to the airport. Then I'll be on the plane for about 16 hours and I'll be home. I miss you."

"I miss you, too," she answered sincerely, truthfully.

It had been a little over six months the last time Sheva had seen her fiancé, Chris Redfield. After entering the small European county Edonia during the civil war on a mission with his team Alpha, Chris had gone missing after his entire team, save for a young sniper, were killed while on duty. That young surviving sniper, Piers Nivans, was the one to call her six months ago in December and told her that his captain and her fiancé had been attacked by one of his mutated teammates, striking his head to the point of unconsciousness. At first, Chris had slipped into a light coma, being admitted to an Edonian hospital under surveillance. But the surveillance wasn't enough because a few days later after being struck unconscious, Chris woke up with strong amnesia and ran away, frightened when he couldn't remember who he was or what was happening around him.

Just two weeks ago, she had seen Nivans off as he and a newly reformed Alpha team with all new agents boarded a jet to Europe. Nivans and Alpha were going back to Edonia to continue the search for Chris and this time they were lucky. Piers was able to track Chris down, find him, and recruit him to return to his role as captain. Despite still suffering with amnesia, Chris had no choice but to join Alpha on the mission in Lanshiang, China. The events in Edonia seemed to replay as Chris fought his way through the infected city, losing his men all over again. But this time, he had lost Nivans as well, making it a harder blow when the young sniper sacrificed himself for Chris.

Chris was left shaken to the bone, sinking into a depression that he was afraid he couldn't get out of. The only positive outcome from the mission in China was he regained his memory. He may have remembered Carla Radames, who was posing as Ada Wong, but he also remembered his family waiting back home for him. His sister, Claire Redfield, had already had the opportunity to talk to him once he got to China's base for the BSAA after the mission was finished. She was worried like he imagined, but she told him she knew that he was going to be found, though she wished she was part of the search team to look for him unlike the BSAA's allowance for her to do so.

Another person waiting for him back home was Sheva, the woman he had proposed to almost a year ago. Sheva had been searching for him back home, aiding Piers while he was out on the field searching for the captain. When Chris had called her for the first time in six months, she had cried for about ten minutes when she heard his voice and admittedly, he cried as well.

That was seven days ago and now he was waiting to go to the airport, get on the plane to go home to New York City, and be with his family again. After all he had seen in Edonia, China, and the time between, he just needed a place that was familiar and that happened to be with Sheva.

"Are you still wearing it?" he asked, referring the ring he had given her last July.

"Of course I am. I haven't taken it off since the day you gave it to me," she told him honestly. Habitually, she twisted the said ring around her finger, always feeling reassurance when she'd look at it. "When will you be landing?"

"Mm, around seven pm, I think. You'll be there, right?"

"Chris, do you really need to ask that? Nothing's going to stop me from being there when you come home. I have to admit, though. I'm kinda nervous to see you after six months. It's like our first date all over again," she confessed shyly.

He laughed. "Yeah, I'm nervous too, but I can't wait. I just want to be home. Hey Shev, I know you don't like to talk about it, but I need to ask you something," he suddenly sprung on, his voice serious. When she hesitantly told him to go on, he did carefully. "I know I'm paranoid, but Wesker _is_ still locked up? After meeting Muller, I just can't stop thinking he escaped and I don't want to ask the directors here. They'll think I'm crazier than they already do."

Her throat closed at the subject of Albert Wesker. It had been four years since Albert had let her go those years ago in the Spencer mansion and yet she still reacted strongly. How could she not? The man she had secretly loved was locked up in high security in cryogenic sleep, only a few floors below her in the underground research labs of the BSAA building. She cleared her throat before answering Chris.

"He's still asleep and locked up. He won't be waking up for a very long time, Chris, if ever," it hurt her to say.

It was a reality that she had accepted years ago despite the fact she wished she could at least have a two way conversation with Albert again. She had never spoken a word of her affair with Albert during her imprisonment under his watch four years ago with anyone. Everyone would call her crazy, throw her in a loony bin, and take tests on her to make sure he had never done something to her. Well, they actually had taken plenty precautions to make sure she wasn't some host of a virus that Wesker had injected her with. But they were sympathetic about it, looking at her as a victim, not a love sick psychotic woman.

As said, she had told no one of her love for Albert, but she also kept the fact she was a grandchild to Oswell E. Spencer a secret as well. She didn't even want to think what they'd do with her if they discovered her true lineage. She had heard the life Sherry Birkin, daughter of William Birkin, had gone through in the labs and she knew that she herself would go through the same thing. The only thing she kept from that time with Wesker close was her Spencer brother, Isaac Tate. They talked often in secret, discussed about stuff in one another's life. He was supportive of everything she did and chose, as was she with him. He even understood her anger when she found out that her old love, Albert, had a son that she never knew about. Isaac understood that Sheva was upset that Wesker had loved another woman. It wasn't that he had affections for someone else in his past. But the true reason it stung so bad to know that Wesker had loved someone else was that he had never told her, Sheva, that he loved her. She had told him, but he never said the three loving words to her.

She'd tell herself what she had just told Chris, he wouldn't be waking up from cryostasis in a long time, if ever. She accepted this as did everyone else who knew of Wesker's imprisonment. She was, however, curious about his illegitimate son, Jake Muller, no matter how upset she was at Albert for not telling her about him.

"Speaking of Muller, do you know if the directors have been able to contact him?" she inquired, standing from her desk. Her phone was still to her ear, held there with her shoulder as she began to clean her desk up and pack papers that she'd need to go over at home.

"Not yet. Sherry Birkin was the last to talk to him, but it was text messaging and it was through a disposable phone he had. She says she has no idea where he is, but she imagines he's taking a vacation after all they'd been through."

"And you believe that?"

"I guess so," Chris answered. "The kid's gone through a lot. He gave Birkin samples of his blood so government now has antibodies for the C-Virus. Really, he doesn't need to do anything else."

"I just wonder what he's going to do now that he knows who his father is. Does he really look like him?"

Chris talked away from the phone, speaking with his escort who was to drive him to the airport. "Yeah, he does. I mean, not completely like Wesker, luckily for Muller. But I noticed the resemblance pretty quickly. He talks back a lot which I imagine Wesker would hate," Chris laughed. "Babe, I have to go. I'll see you soon. Make sure you get some sleep so when I see you we'll have time together, please. I miss you a lot."

"Oh fine, honey. I'll sleep in just for you," she smiled when he chuckled. "I love you, Chris. Have a safe flight, I'll see you soon."

"I love you too, Sheva. See you soon."

It took a moment before they hung up, but finally they did when Chris's escort told him to hurry. Once the call ended, Sheva put her phone into her bag and collected everything she needed before turning off her laptop and lights in her office. As she locked her office door, she went through in her mind the list she'd made up to make sure she had everything ready for the dinner she'd make for Chris when he came home. It was a surprise that she had been planning since she got news that he'd been found.

She was still going through that list as she was going down the flight of stairs that led to the main floor of the BSAA building. She was the only person in there, save for a security guard somewhere in the building. She was about to enter the lobby to leave through the main doors when she noticed one of the security camera's surveying the flight of stairs had been turned towards the wall it hung on and seemingly turned off. Suspicious, she went down the next flight of stairs that led to the research labs below and sure enough, the camera that watched the entrance to the labs was turned away and off like the one above. She gasped when she saw that the door to the labs was held open with a flashlight wedged into the doorway.

A moment of panic and decision rushed through Sheva's mind. Should she find the security guard, call the police herself, should she not make a fuss about it and leave it alone, or should she check it out herself? As she peeked through the door, she saw a shadow in the hallway to the left, causing her to jump a little. It was hard for her not to note that that hallway was the way to Wesker's room where he slept in cryostasis. Not really deciding, her feet began to lead her into the labs, letting the door shut on the flashlight once again.

Staying silent, Sheva quietly stepped down the left hallway, her eyes peeled for any movement or shadow to indicate where this intruder might have gone. As she came closer to the end of the corridor, the closer she came to Wesker's holding room. Soon she met the end and was grasping the doorknob, her heart pounding to not only see Albert—whom she hadn't come to visit in at least five months—but to find who it was creeping in the labs. Though she hoped it was just one of the regular scientists, a large part of her feared it was a new terrorist and she was going to meet them first hand. However, she was incorrect about both guesses.

"Oh my, God," she muttered, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping.

Being completely unprepared for this, she knew she would never have been prepared to see the scene she did now. Her knees wobbled to see Albert step out of the cylinder that he had been cryogenically sleeping in for four years. While she was in awe to see the man she had tried so hard to get over, there was another man in the room that she had never met in person, but in the past few days had seen plenty pictures of. While Wesker stretched his fingers and got his footing right, the other man gave Sheva an annoyed look with a quirked brow, but then it changed to a smirk.

"Wanna give me a hand?" Jake Muller requested as he hooked a hand around his father's elbow.

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**Author's note:** _Jake's breaking daddy Wesker out of Shawshank, Sheva's caught him in the act, she and Chris are engaged… The story has been set in motion. Our story has begun._

_When writing the first installment, I hadn't intended to write a sequel, let alone set it up to possibly have one. But I've gotten so much good feedback that a sequel was just calling to be written. Well, sort of. I'd get messages fairly often to either write a one-shot to conclude the first one so Wesker and Sheva would end up together or write the sequel._

_I've already planned what's going to happen, who's going to be the antagonist, and who's ending up with whom. I'm bringing characters in from the games, who I think some will be surprised to see, that I'm really excited about, including Jake. And also I'm bringing in some OC's. Some new, some old._

_So what do you all think? What do you think of how it started and the nightmare Sheva had at the beginning? Let me know in a review, maybe? I'd greatly appreciate it and I'm always eager to hear your feedback and guesses. _

_This story will be slow in updates, sadly. I'm a working girl with a busy agenda, so please bear with me. I hope to update maybe every two weeks or less, but we shall see. Reviews always encourage and motivate me to write more. *wink wink* :) Sorry for the long A/N, I'll keep them shorter in future chapters. Promise!_

_-Sarai_


	2. Prison Break

**2. Prison Break**

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_Oh my, God. Oh my, God. Oh my, God._

Full on panic was happening in Sheva's mind and she could only imagine how her face looked. Jake watched her with a fading smirk, seemingly bored by her presence and expression. He resituated his gaze to look at his father, Wesker, and Sheva did as well. Her heart pounded for multiple reasons; Wesker was awake, Jake was waking him up, she walked in on it…

_What a mess._

"Well, we got two minutes to get you out of here before the cameras turn back on. So we better hurry, yeah?" Jake queried with no urgency in his voice. "C'mon old man."

As Jake urged Wesker forward, the eldest man's footing went off balance and he fell to his knees. Wesker squeezed his eyes shut and brought his hands to his temples. He almost looked as if he were in pain, pushing Sheva to move and stride towards him. She didn't touch him, but she tried getting a good look at him. He made it hard, though, hunching while holding his head.

"Why's he acting like he's in pain?" Jake asked. "I just woke him. He should have a big smile on his face."

"He doesn't smile much," Sheva claimed, crouching and laying a hand on Wesker's shoulder. "Albert, are you all right? Are you hurting?"

A loud gasp came from Sheva when Wesker looked at her, his eyes ostensibly angry and lips in a tight frown. She would tell you he looked like his old self if it weren't for the color of his eyes or the new appearance he seemed to have gained. Albert Wesker's eyes weren't the red shade Sheva had only known or seen them to be. They were a blue grayish shade in the dim room. There was a small stripe, though, in his left eye of a glowing red, the red that used to color his whole iris. The skin all over his body seemed glowing, younger. Wesker wasn't exactly someone who looked old, hardly. But now it was as if time had reversed for him, looking as if he was in his late twenties or early thirties. Sheva didn't miss her heart skip a beat as he held her gape.

"Albert…" Sheva whispered, bringing her palm to his cheek.

Her hand was quickly torn away when he slapped the said hand and grasped her shoulder with a strong grip. He stood, his fingers pressing into her skin, as Sheva was forced to stay on her knees, her eyes watering from the pain in her shoulder. This was a rather nostalgic pose for the duo. However, the grip he had on her was not nearly as strong as it used to be four years ago. Sheva was able to raise her hand, slap him hard on his cheek and punch him in the gut. Quickly letting her go, Wesker huffed at the blow to his abdomen and took a step back. Before he could give her a hearty punch himself, Jake had stepped in and stabbed a needle into his father's neck.

As Wesker fell to the floor in unconsciousness, Sheva sat on her bum while holding her shoulder. She wiped at the corners of her eyes, the tears caused by two different things; the pain in her body from his grip and the reunion with an awake Wesker. She looked up at Jake as he stepped around to grab onto his father's arm and pull him up.

"What did you give him?" she questioned as she rose to her feet.

Jake shrugged. "Tranquilizer. I kinda had the idea that he'd be a pain in the ass to deal with so I'm taking precautions. Can you help me out here?"

As she watched him confusedly, Jake wrapped Wesker's arm around his neck and signaled for Sheva to do the same on Wesker's other side. Though feeling unsure about it all, she did and helped Jake keep Wesker upright as he hung forward heavily. Wesker grumbled and lifted his head slowly, but he fell back to unconsciousness. Sheva wanted to laugh that the amount of sedative Jake had given him wasn't completely enough to keep him down. Four years ago, when Chris and Jill Valentine caught him, they had to use so many tranquilizers that it would kill an elephant to put him down and arrest him. Though she may have wanted to laugh, Sheva was surprised that such a small injection of what Jake had given Wesker had been able to knock most of the lights out of him for the time being. He had changed, she just wasn't sure how much and how far he had.

"All right, we have to get to the main floor and then out the back exit. There's a car waiting for us there," Jake stated, pulling Wesker along as Sheva stayed footed.

"I can't do this. _You_ can't do this," she told him. "You can get in major trouble for just breaking in here, Mr. Muller."

"It's Jake, and now you're in trouble because you're helping me escape with him."

"Helping? I'm not helping. I'm not going with you," she declared.

"M'kay, sure. I'll just take my father with me and you can stay here," he nonchalantly announced. "I've never taken care of anyone, so I'll probably kill him because I forgot to feed him or something. But don't worry, when he's dying I'll make sure to let him know that there was a woman that might have been able to help him but she decided to stick back and let him die. What was your name? I want to make sure he knows when he's taking his last breath." Jake's smile was trying so hard to go unknown, but the grin was too big.

"Is that supposed to make me want to go with you?" she doubted him.

"Look lady," he started, his grin gone. "Stay here if you want. Tell everyone how I broke my father out, I don't care. But I can tell by the way you looked at him that you care about him somehow or someway, so it's up to you. I was serious when I said I don't know how to take care of a crazy guy that everyone says Wesker is, but I'm getting him out of here. I have every right to take him."

Wesker grumbled something that Sheva only imagined to be a snarky comment to Jake's statement. Pulling him up, Sheva sighed from his weight leaning on her neck and shoulder, the heaviness of him pushing into her. Being torn on what to do, she grabbed Wesker's chin and brought him to look at her. His eyes were in slits as he tried to open them to look back at her, but the tranquilizer was too strong for him to stay alert.

"Who…rrr…you," Wesker mumbled, his head feeling incredibly heavy.

He didn't have to articulate the words correctly for Sheva to understand what he was asking. Either he was really drugged up or he really didn't know who she was. She kept him to look at her for a moment longer.

"Albert, you don't remember me?" she asked with a quiet voice.

He tried standing straighter to get a better look at her, but he failed and fell forward onto her. Fortunately there was a wall right behind her, so she only fell back half a foot when Wesker pinned her against the wall with his body.

"Albert?" she called him, breathless to have his body pressed against hers.

It brought back many memories, making her nerves come alive with his warmth surrounding her again these years later. Like a pro, he did his best to fight off the sedative as he moved his face to look at her, his nose brushing the curve of her neck and eyelashes tickling her jaw. When she gasped at the sensation, Jake rolled his eyes and grabbed Wesker's shoulders.

"Before you jump his bones, I need to get him out of here," he said. "Are you helping me or not?"

Sheva was at a crossroads. Wesker's hand caught onto her elbow when Jake pulled him up and effectively pulled Sheva along with him. If she went through with this, it meant she was betraying her fiancé and love, Chris. He was coming home, expecting to see her welcome him back, and until now that's what she had expected too. Wesker mumbled once again to ask who she was. He had an easier time saying it and he was even able to look at her on his own.

Her curiosity boiled to know how he had change while cryogenically sleeping. Why couldn't he remember her? Was it just temporary? Was it a side effect after just waking up? Her Albert was awake and she possessed all the same feelings for him she had four years ago.

Her brain seemed to make up its own mind for a second time that night as her feet led her forward, moving along with Jake and Wesker. She was betraying Chris and that knowledge hurt her incredibly. He'd come home without her there unlike she had told him. But she had to do this. She had to help Jake and she had to be with Albert at this moment. She needed to do this for herself.

* * *

Walking quickly through the crowds towards the terminal's exit, Chris's heartbeat sped to know he'd see his family within seconds. People complained as he pushed through, but he didn't care or hear them. Soon he'd see his sister's bright blue eyes and he'd be in Sheva's arms with her petite body against his. He couldn't wait. He finally broke from the crowd and looked at the wall of people waiting to be reunited with their visitor or returning friend.

His eyes scanned the line of people, but it didn't take long until he noticed the auburn hair in the crowd. Chris jogged towards Claire, her arms already stretched out for him to walk into. He dropped his carryon duffle bag right before he came in contact with his sister, holding her tightly. Crying into his shoulder, Claire's body shook with sobs.

"Oh, Chris. I've missed you so much, you have no idea," she whimpered.

"I missed you too, Claire. Like crazy."

After what seemed like ten minutes, he pulled away and looked around, his eyes searching for his fiancée. Turning his head from left to right, the furrow in his brow grew when Sheva never came into sight. A familiar panic began to rise as he gripped Claire's arms, his breathing becoming quick and short.

"C-Claire, where's Sheva?" his voice was wavering, evidence that if he didn't calm down, he'd have a panic attack and begin to cry. When he finally looked into his sisters bright blue eyes, he found them to be bloodshot from tears and her face was molded into sadness.

"Chris, I have to tell you something. Sheva…well… Chris, Sheva's gone missing," Claire finally said it. On the way to the JFK airport, she had been practicing how to say it. None of the ways she rehearsed sounded good and it surely didn't sound decent now.

"She's what? W-what do you mean missing?" he was frantic as his eyes went back to the crowds in search for Sheva. "I talked to her last night. She's here, Claire. Where is she? She said she'd be here. I know she is."

"Chris, look at me," she beckoned. Once he did, she brought her hands to the sides of his head and took a deep breath, telling him to do the same. "I need you to stay calm, Chris. I was going to tell you when we got in the car, but… Chris, Wesker is missing, too."

Eyes going wide, Chris stopped breathing. "What?!" he shouted, causing people around him to jump and stare at him.

Claire clamped a hand over his mouth, telling him to take another deep breath. When she knew for sure he was going to start panicking majorly, Claire rushed him out of the terminal and towards the handicap restroom. She pushed him inside, joining him and locking it. Turning to look at him, she quickly covered her ears when Chris bellowed loudly his panic, fear, and anger.

* * *

**Author's note:** _My, Chris is none too happy about what's happening, am I right? If losing his team in Edonia and China hadn't pushed him over the edge, Sheva going missing and Wesker escaping surly will do it. On the other hand, Wesker is showing some differences and seems to have forgotten Sheva. What does this mean? The plot thickens…marginally._

_Kirrastrasza:__ Haha, I seriously laughed at your comment about falling off your chair. Getting excited is dangerous! Thank you, I'm happy you like it!  
__Lollipop Lolli:__ I'm so happy you liked the beginning. I'm super excited for this story, like crazy excited. There will be more Jake to come, I promise. I've heard about The Last of Us DLC, I just haven't read up anything on it. Does it look good? Season 2 of The Walking Dead is something I'm so so so pumped for!  
__Auktober:__ Haha, I'm a sucker for long chapters, too. The longer the better! Wesker returning was my favorite part, too. Thank you! I'm glad you like it so far.  
__Amritaru:__ Eek, just reading how excited you are makes me even more excited to write and post chapters! Aw, and thank you for reading and being so nice!  
__LostInThe80's:__ I'm so excited too! Eek!  
__Ulitmolu:__ Whilst Sheva was talking to Chris, Jake was downstairs thawing "Ice-Cube" Wesker with a hairdryer and Sheva walked in on them when Jake was done with the defrosting… No, I'm kidding! Thank you!  
__Comix777:__ Congrats on the writing, that's awesome! I hope it's going really well. Aw, thanks. I'm not the best example when it comes to writing, though. I'm just saying, haha.  
__REFan:__ Thank you. I wanted to make sure Jake appeared right away so that he could partake in the cliffhanger, haha._

_Tell me what you think in a review, please. I get so giddy when I get notified for one. Thanks!_

_-Sarai_


	3. On The Move

**3. On The Move**

* * *

The rumbling of the small car seemed to soothe Sheva slightly, but not enough. The sound of indie folk played on the radio, the poetic lyrics giving her something to decipher, to fill her mind with something to do besides look in the back seat behind her or yell at Jake who was sitting in the driver's seat. The song playing was by First Aid Kit. It was an odd song, Sheva thought, but a certain charm about it kept her listening, trying to relate to the lyrics meaning.

_But everything I say I keep in the wrong side of my mouth  
And when the words come out they don't sound anything like  
I imagined, 'cause I imagined…_

_It feels like I am waiting for the rain.  
I want to live that life again, I want to live that life again._

_Or an endless secret, parade of change.  
I want to cross oceans, I want to cross oceans.*_

And then the song would continue, leading to the chorus, leaving Sheva to think of the verse sung before. When Jake shuffled in his seat, he reached his right hand over and changed the channel for a rock station, snapping Sheva out of her trance.

"I never would have taken you as some who liked indie music," Sheva commented.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, expecting her to say something that'd rouse an argument. That's all they'd been doing for the past seventeen hours in the car.

"I don't," he told her. "It's just, there's someone who likes folk and she's been telling me to check out bands and artists sometimes. I just thought I'd try it out."

"And do you like it?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. But I can see why she does. She likes when something has a lot of meaning. She likes stories a lot."

"Who is she?" Sheva asked, having an idea who "she" was.

"No one," he told her plainly. When she chuckled, he glared at her. "What?"

"Nothing," she answered just as vaguely.

"She" was Sherry Birkin. While going over reports, Sheva had read in the BSAA files how Muller and Birkin had been together since Edonia, not romantically but as prisoners/partners/friends. However, with the way Jake talked about Sherry, though he never said her name, Sheva knew she was the girl he spoke mysteriously about.

"So, you gonna tell me who you are?" he asked after five minutes of silence.

"You gonna tell me your plan?" she retorted, watching as he rolled his eyes. The gesture, the exchange of words, the mood, was familiar.

"Not until you tell me who you are," he replied, staying strong to his stubbornness. Sheva could play at that game, too, and just as well.

"Don't you think it rather reckless of you to not only kidnap a man from a high security organization but also naive to bring along someone who you know nothing about? I could be very important to the BSAA, you know."

"For one, that wasn't high security if I could get in. Secondly, I didn't force you to come with me. You could have called the police right when you caught me. And lastly, if you are important, then I look forward to finding out who you are, which I plan on learning very soon."

She said nothing as she leaned against her car door, finding nothing interesting enough to combat him verbally with. It's not that her identity was some great reveal, hardly. But it was something she knew he didn't know, so it offered her the upper hand on some standards. She knew loads about him. Once the BSAA had gotten word of Wesker having a son, Jake's life was thoroughly investigated, and she learned as much as she could about him in the last week. She knew about his childhood in Edonia, his experience with guerrilla groups, and becoming a mercenary. She was even able to read about his mother, the woman Albert had loved, but little was known about her. Sheva was left with gapes of knowledge in Jake's life, but she planned on learning who he was and what he wanted with his father.

Thinking of Wesker, Sheva looked back to the seats behind her, frowning to see that the hostage was still passed out from the sedative Jake had given him. When Jake initially woke him up, he gave Wesker a small tranquilizer, and once they got into the getaway car, he was given another to keep asleep for the long drive.

"Do you think he'll wake up soon?" she queried, still looking back at the passed out Wesker.

"Really any minute now," Jake stated. "We're almost at the motel. We'll stop there for a few hours to get some rest and then we continue on."

"Is it safe to settle somewhere for a few hours? We both know we have people looking for all three of us."

She sat straight again, seeing a small establishment in the distance in the middle of nowhere. From the last sign she saw, they were in Florida if she was correct. They were somewhere in the undeveloped part of the state where government offices or commercial companies had yet to claim territory. The last sign of civilians she had seen was forty minutes ago at some small farmers market.

"It's only for a few hours," Jake said. "We rest, we leave for the coast, and we're off the continent. If we get caught, then we get caught. But right now we need to get him," he pointed to the backseat with his thumb, "somewhere quiet so he can wake up and rejuvenate, or whatever he needs to do. Once he's strong enough to walk on his own without falling from exhaustion, we start moving again."

As if on cue, a low groan came from the back seat. Sheva turned around in her seat to look at Wesker immediately while Jake looked into the rearview mirror, trying to get a look at what was going on while still keeping an eye on the road ahead. As she watched Wesker bring his hands to his eyes and press on the delicate skin, she gripped the headrest on the seat she sat in with her own hands, her heartbeat accelerating with anticipation. He stayed like this for a small moment, but when Jake had to turn into the motel's parking lot, Wesker pulled his hands away and starred at the ceiling with furrowed brows. It wasn't hard to see that he was confused, either baffled why he was in a car or trying to recall his last memory.

The car came to a stop. Jake turned off the ignition and turned in his seat to join Sheva's watch over the eldest male. They both gasped in unison when Wesker looked to them with inquisitive eyes, but Sheva was the one to see the anger behind his gaze. She looked away from the man in the backseat and looked to Jake, whose face was mere inches from hers.

"What do we do now?" she asked him, hoping he'd reveal some of his plan.

"I'm gonna go buy a room for the night," he told her slowly. "Why don't you try talking to him? I'll be back." And with that, he turned in his seat and exited the car, racing for the office.

As she watched Jake walk quickly away, she could see Wesker rising to sit straight in her peripheral. She held back the need to gulp, not wanting to embarrass herself, and turned to look him. Well, she ended up gulping the lump in her throat when she met his eyes and her body shivered with the intensity of his gape. Now in the setting sun, his eyes looked more grey than blue like they had last night when she caught Jake waking him up. The red stripe in his left iris wasn't the same glowing red it was the night before, but a dull maroon that contrasted with the grey. His eyes may not have been glowing like earlier, but they still had an eerie look to them. She had to admit, though, they weren't as intimidating as when his eyes used to be entirely burning red.

"Uh, hi," she muttered, feeling ungainly with the silence. To add to the awkwardness, she gave him a small pathetic wave of her hand, laughing nervously. "How do you feel?"

He never looked away. It was as if he was studying her but his eyes never left hers. "Who are you?"

Biting her lip, her fingers gripped tighter into the vinyl of the headrest that she was nearly strangling. "You don't remember me? Really?"

"If I remembered you, I wouldn't be asking you who you are, now would I?" he sneered. His voice sounded like what acidic felt like—burning and unmistakable. "Who's the man with you?"

"Oh, him," she mumbled. She did her best to put on a poker face for now. She didn't want him to see how he had just hurt her with his previous words. "I'll let him introduce himself. Why don't we get you out of the car and into the room?"

"I'm not a child," he hissed.

He kicked the door at his feet only to find the door did not budge. His brows furrowed more with frustration. _Why didn't the door fly off the car?_ He tried again, but like the first attempt, the door did not open. When he heard Sheva shuffle, he looked to her to see that she was holding back a smirk and it angered him immensely.

"You're going to tire yourself if you keep up with the kicking."

When he started to kick even harder, she couldn't hold back the chuckle. He claimed he wasn't a child, but children kicked. Sheva thought to only finish the picture all he needed to do was scream. Then he'd be a kicking and screaming child. She was about to laugh again when he growled, but before her throat could produce the noise, he kicked so hard the door flew open. It may not have flown off, but Sheva was left gaping at the sight while it was Wesker's turn to laugh. He slid out of the back seat, testing his feet on the gravel outside. Sheva got out faster than daylight and watched as he tried standing on his own feet.

"You're too weak to walk on your own. You were asleep for seventeen hours," she stated. _Not to mention four years in cryostasis before that, _she thought.

He was about to say he wasn't a child again as he stood from the vehicle. But as he stood straight, his right knee wobbled slightly and he lost footing. Sheva was quick to catch his arm and keep him up, putting a hand to his tee shirt covered chest to keep him from toppling forward. His hands reflexively went to her shoulders for balance, trying to put more weight on his feet then on her body. Moving to stand in front of him, Sheva moved her other hand to his chest and pushed him back a little when he started leaning forward ungracefully. After a moment, his hands lifted from her and he raised one foot, set it down and lifted the other. Once he felt he could keep his own balance, he looked to the young woman in front of him and studied as she looked at her hands.

"Maybe if you told me your name, I'd remember you," he spoke softly, trying to fool her with calmness in his voice. Really, he was confused and irritated why he couldn't keep his own steadiness or his strength had seemed to decrease considerably since the last time he could remember.

She thought for a quick second. Maybe if she told him her name, he'd remember her. And then he would kiss her, hold her, love her… "My name is Sheva Alomar," she whispered, looking to meet his grey eyes.

His face went cold, hardly what she was hoping for. His eyes scanned her face for familiarity, his lips going to their usual frown. He took a step back to look her up and down. As she began to feel insecure under his scrutinizing gaze, Jake's voice broke them both out of silent tension.

"Here's the room," he waved to the open doorway he stood next to.

Wesker gave Sheva one more look before he scoffed, shook his head, and strode quickly to the room. Sheva was left by the car, her arms self-consciously hugging her body as Jake looked into the room to see his father go into the bathroom, slamming the door shut followed by the sound of the shower running. He turned to look at the brunette, stepping to her and trying to read her expression.

"What did he say to you?" he probed. The way she looked as if she'd cry and her arms holding her tightly told Jake that she was insulted to the point of insecurity. Just what did Wesker say to her?

"He didn't say anything," she said almost inaudibly.

He brought his hand to scratch his scalp, an eyebrow arching in confusion. He didn't know how to deal with this woman when she was yelling at him or now how she was about to cry. He didn't even know her name. "Well, just think: if he made you feel this way without saying anything, imagine how he'll react to learn I'm his illegitimate son. Don't worry. I'm going to take the brunt of it all pretty much." He softly tapped her arm to comfort her in the most personable way he could manage.

"Heh, thanks," she managed to smile, but her eyes did not show any form of content. She wiped the few tears that formed at the corner of her eyes and sniffled. Once she felt stable enough, she asked him, "so what are we going to do next? You said something about getting off the continent."

"Right, I have to make a call," he reminded himself as he turned to go to the room, Sheva following him. When she asked who it was he needed to call, he stopped short and looked at her. "Just someone."

"Is it Sherry Birkin?"

"No, it's not Sherry," he claimed with what sounded like embarrassment and offensiveness. "It's the guy that's helped out this far. I was surprised when he contacted me. He knew I was going to search for Wesker, so he wanted to help me out. He's supposed to have a jet ready at the coast and then we'll get on that and meet him once we get to Europe."

"Europe? We'll be on that jet for a few hours. What if the BSAA have men prepared at the docks when we arrive and then we're caught? What are we going to do then?"

It was an odd confession to him, but Jake liked that she would say "we" and not "you". It was a comfort to know he wasn't alone in this. "They won't know to look there. They might look in England where they had originally captured Wesker, but not Ireland. There are no traces of his residence there."

Sheva nearly tripped on the dark blue carpet as she walked to one of the beds when he said Ireland. A bad feeling arouse in her stomach. A dread was settling inside of her aside from her head feeling light, as if she might faint.

"Why Ireland? Who's this guy helping you?"

"That's where Wesker used to live before he became a vegetable in New York. And it's where the guy helping me out lives," he explained. He settled on the other bed and splayed out, shutting his eyes and ready to sleep after driving for seventeen hours straight. Sheva had offered driving a few times, but he refused. She had no idea where they needed to go and he didn't entirely trust her yet.

"What's this guy's name who's helping you?" she questioned. When he told her he couldn't say the identity of this mysterious but helpful man, she whined like a temperamental child and stomped her foot. She thought it was a bad idea to move so violently when things started to slightly spin in her vision. "What's his first name?"

"Can't say, sorry. Not my name to give away," he mumbled, wishing she'd shut up so he could get some sleep.

Sheva crawled onto his bed, slapping his chest. He yelped and swatted her slapping hand away. She stopped, grasping his shirt's collar into a clutch and tugged. "Is his name Isaac?"

He finally stopped trying to push her away when she said the man's name. He rose to rest on his elbows and looked at her with a suspicious look. "Yeah… Yeah, that's his name. Isaac Tate."

Before he could catch her, Sheva's eyes rolled up and she fell back, hitting the floor with a loud thunk. Jake scrambled to look at her and frowned to see she had fainted and lay unconscious on the floor. He poked her arm, but she was unresponsive. He scratched his scalp a second time that day and thought to himself, _how does she know Isaac Tate?_

* * *

Though part of him was grateful Sheva never kept alcohol in the condo, Chris wished he had some type of liquor to numb the depression he felt. Day two was approaching that Sheva was gone and no one knew where she was. Oh, and Wesker was missing as well. Gone from his cryogenic cell and gone from the compounds of the BSAA. Part of him was angry at his own anti-bioterrorist paramilitary company for letting Wesker escape, but he was more outraged with himself that he wasn't there to catch the son of a bitch in the process. If only he was there when it happened…

Chris was broken from his fantasies surrounding what he'd do to Wesker if he stood in front of him now when his cell phone began to ring. He lay on the floor in the bedroom with Sheva's cloths thrown about everywhere. He didn't think twice when he dashed to the nightstand next to the bed to get his phone, answered the call, and held the device to his ear.

"Sheva?! Sheva, is that you?" he nearly shouted into the phone with urgency.

"Ugh, Redfield, stop yelling. I can hear you loud and clear if you just talk normally."

Chris looked at the phone, reading the caller id only to growl at the name. _Alyssa Ashcroft._ "What do you want Ashcroft?" he muttered sharply.

"What I want is your report on Lanshiang and what's going on with the Wesker case. I need you here at the office so we can go over all of this," the BSAA representative informed him.

He scoffed. She didn't even mention Sheva. She was missing, she needed to be found, and Ashcroft showed no sympathy. His Sheva needed to be found. Without saying a word, he hung up and tossed his phone to the floor, getting mixed with the mess of clothes all around. He fell on the bed with a sigh, his arms gathering what articles of Sheva's clothing lay there, and brought them closer until he could smell her scent on the fabric. The lavender and jasmine perfume filled his nose, offering him some form of comfort for the smallest second. Then the depression would pull him deeper and remind him that it was just clothes and not actually her. He hid his face, telling himself not to cry. _She's coming back,_ he told himself. _She'll be home any minute now._

"Where are you?" he cried softly into her clothes, hiding from the world then.

* * *

**Author's note:** _Alyssa Ashcroft has been unofficially introduced, Isaac has been going behind Sheva's back, Chris is moping, Wesker isn't as strong as he used to be, and Jake is listening to indie folk music because of Sherry. The world can change people! I've never played Outbreak, but I've watched walkthrough's and read up a lot on REWiki, so I hope I'm prepared for Alyssa. She'll play a larger role in Chris's side of the story. Along the way, we might see one other Outbreak character appear in the story. My lips are sealed as to who that will be…_

_Auktober:__ Your long review humbles me, sir. Haha, thanks for putting so much thought into it! I do feel bad that I made Wesker's memory a little spotty. But that's what I'd imagine would happen to your memories after years sleeping, right? I don't know, really. More Shesker moments to come in future chapters, I promise! I'm kind of intimidated to write for Jake because he seems very private and yet he has no agenda. I don't think he plans everything he does thoroughly, which is kind of a downfall for him. But that's just what I see. Aha, I appreciate that you're excited for chapter updates! It really makes me eager to write and then post for you to read. I was surprised how short I made the last chapter, but I'm trying to type them out a little longer. Thank you for your feedback!  
__Comix777:__ I'd go looney, too. I'd probably commit myself to the psycho ward! No, I'm kidding. I'm glad to hear the fan fiction is working out really well!  
__Sasusakui:__ Ahaha, is Chris banging his chest like King Kong too? Because that would be the most hilarious mental image. Haha!  
__littlevamp:__ Thank you! It means a lot that you were willing to read the first, so I appreciate it. Haha, totally, Sheva wants to jump Wesker's bones and so do I. I mean, what? Anyways! Thank you again. :) _

_Happy early Thanksgiving to my fellow Americans, good luck and be safe on Black Friday, and I hope those of you who don't celebrate the holiday or are not American have a lovely week. Please leave a review or comment on your thoughts about this chapter. I'd appreciate it so much!_

_-Sarai_

_*Lyrics to 'Cross Oceans' by First Aid Kit. I don't own copyrights._


	4. Pedophobia

**4. Pedophobia***

* * *

Pulling the car door open, Jake leaned in to look over Sheva. She and Wesker seemed to have switched seats today. Wesker had sat in the passenger seat while Jake had driven to the coastline and Sheva was passed out in the back seat. It'd been about seven hours since she fainted and she had to yet to waken. Her legs were folded to the side while she clutched onto her bag that she had taken with her when she helped Jake break Wesker out. Jake shook her knee.

"Hey, sleepy head," he called. "Wake up. We have to get on the jet now."

Sheva mumbled something groggily, her head moving from the left to right in sleepiness. Unsure of what to do, he grabbed her bag and slung it onto his shoulder. He grabbed her legs and pulled her out, making her protest in slurs. When her legs were out, he grasped her arms and pulled her to sit up. When she did, she wavered, almost falling out of the car. But he kept her steady and brought her arm to his shoulders and pulled her to stand. She leaned into him considerably, her feet only holding a fraction of her weight. Jake didn't mind though, she was about the same weight as Sherry.

Sheva's eyes squinted open to see a jet only fifty or so feet away. It was ready to fly with all the engines turned on. She knew this because she could hear it when Jake had woken her up. Soon her feet were moving—more like dragging—as Jake pulled her along, going to the opening hatch to board the small aircraft. She looked up to the young man when he scoffed to find he was looking in the direction of the jet. She followed his gaze and landed on Wesker as he strode quickly to the steps of the hatch, not bothering to look back to see if Jake needed assistance with her.

"Have you told him yet?" she asked him, referring to the conversation he was supposed to have with Wesker about being his illegitimate son. Sheva started moving her feet in sync with his and could carry more of her weight, however, still needing Jake's aid.

"Not yet," he told her. "Part of me doesn't really want to. He's an asshole."

She chuckled despite her lethargy state. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know," he mumbled truthfully.

Wesker looked around the space inside the jet. Everything was either black or grey, making the cabin look smaller than it actually was. His eyes searched for some type of radio or cellular, but he turned when he heard the click of a door behind him. His eyes locked with red glowing orbs of a gas mask. Wesker recognized the man dressed in black tactical gear immediately.

"HUNK," Wesker murmured, eyeing the agent. "You're still alive."

"The Death cannot die," was his cryptic response.

He couldn't help but chuckle at the man clad in black. _Always the mystery,_ Wesker thought. The blond took a seat closest to the exit, watching as the boy he learned to be named Jake brought the Spencer spawn, Sheva, into the jet. He set her down at the end of the cabin on the widest seat, letting her lie down to sleep more if need be. Jake left her there and went to stand in front of the ex-Umbrella agent.

"You're the guy Tate sent?" he questioned.

HUNK crossed his arms and scanned the boy through his mask. He could see the only girl curl into a ball at the back. He recognized her from four years ago when he had flown Wesker and her to Elliot Spencer's mansion. She looked the same, he admitted, she just looked exhausted at the moment. Turning his head to look at Wesker, HUNK eyed him carefully, trying to decode any emotion he might show. But Wesker showed none besides annoyance; a look that was accustomed to Albert Wesker. HUNK was aware he'd been under arrest by the government and BSAA, asleep for four years, and that the boy that stood before him now was his son. It didn't take much to hint that Wesker didn't know that the young man had any relation to him.

"We'll be arriving in Ireland in approximately 7.5 hours," he told the boy and turned towards the door that led to the cockpit. He didn't answer Jake's question, but he didn't need to. There were no other jet's just sitting around here, so he was obviously the one sent by Isaac Tate. "You still have the key remote to the car, right?" he added, holding the door open. Jake nodded. "Press the lock button five times, unlock button three times, and hold down the trunk button for five seconds once we're airborne."

Before Jake could probe the masked man, HUNK had entered the cockpit, closing the door and began flipping switches. Jake shook his head once with a smirk. _These people are so weird,_ he thought. Knowing the aircraft would be taking off soon, he thought it best to take a seat. When he turned, he was torn with decision to sit by whom. There were only two seats; one across Sheva and one across Wesker. Jake cracked his knuckles and chose to sit with the other male, slowly sitting while Wesker watched him carefully.

They watched each other as the jet began to move and then took off, saying goodbye to American land. When they were high enough, Jake did as HUNK told him and clicked the buttons on the key remote to the car they had been in prior. He had little faith the car would get the remotes signal, but he did it anyway. He kept from jumping when he heard a loud explosion below. Looking out the window, he saw the car he had been driving in for the past long hours in flames, revealing that he had just set off a bomb inside the metal box.

Jake rubbed his lips, hiding the grin to watch the vehicle burn. It was like those cheesy action movies. All that was needed was a silhouette of a man walking away from the burning car with some old rock song drumming in the background. He turned to look back at his father to find that Wesker was looking on at the automobile below like he had been, but Wesker had no expression as he looked on. Soon the car was just a red dot in the distance.

"Do you remember Kayla Muller?" Jake suddenly inquired with no warm up conversation or warning. He wanted to get this conversation over with.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Wesker wondered what Jake could possibly know about his past with Muller. She was just another person he had included in the short time he faked the life of normality. By this time in his life, Wesker had forgotten about her, considering her insignificant.

"What about Muller?" he quizzed.

"What do you remember about her? I'm curious," Jake replied, settling into his seat.

This was just the mundane beginning to some discussion Jake wanted to have, Wesker knew. But he himself was curious about this topic, so he went along, bitterly answering the boy.

"She was insecure about everything she did. She had no confidence in herself. Ironically she liked to be around people and she talked a lot. Quite naïve, she never wanted to see when others sabotaged her, which was often," he listed with a quick quirk of his brow. "She was rather easy—"

"Watch what you say," Jake warned quickly, his fingers curling in his lap.

Wesker chose not finish that sentence. What he was going to say was that she was easy to like, but he undeniably enjoyed seeing this young boy irritated. Gave him pleasure to know he was so easily ticked off.

"It's my turn to ask you a question: why do have her with you?" Wesker interrogated while pointing at Sheva in the back.

Jake looked back to see Sheva was sitting up with her knees to her chest. Her head rested on her knees with her eyes closed while she leaned slightly on the arm rest. He had yet to learn her name, but he didn't really think it was all that important until now when Wesker asked about her.

"She helped me get you out of the BSAA building. Why do you look so pissed about her?"

Anger was evident on his face. "The BSAA? That ghastly paramilitary company founded by…_Redfield_?" he hissed with disdain.

"Yep, that's it. You've been locked up there for four years. You're welcome, by the way. If it weren't for me then you'd still be in their hands. And if it weren't for her," Jake gestured to Sheva, "you'd probably be put right back into the cylinder you were sleeping in."

Wesker growled lowly and in parts, reminding Jake of an angry dog. "I've been under _Chris's_ watch for four years?!"

"Technically you were under the BSAA's watch. You've been in—what do they call it?—oh, right. Cryostasis," Jake tapped his chin. "I'm still waiting for the thank you to me and her."

"I would not thank you in a million years," the eldest snarled. "Do you know who she is?!"

_What a show,_ Jake thought. All he wanted was an apple to eat while he watched his father fume. "Nope."

"That's Sheva Alomar, Elliot Spencer's offspring," Wesker informed with a scoff.

"Shev—Sheva Alomar?" Jake repeated dumfounded. He scratched his cheek, thinking things over. "Well that changes things," he said while staring at his feet.

"Why do you say that?" Wesker asked, his head pounding with a headache, something he hadn't felt in years—decades. The pounding in his skull was getting louder and more violent.

Jake gave a nervous chuckle. "Well, it means that Chris Redfield's going to be very, very angry with me. I mean, I took you so he's gonna be shitting himself anyways. But since his fiancée came along… Let's just say he's probably smashing watermelons, imagining they're my head."

"His what?"

Though he hated that pathetic Redfield, he wanted to rip his head off to know that he was marrying Spencer's child. On the other hand, it was rather funny; Redfield marrying a Spencer. But still. She belonged to Umbrella. _No—Umbrella is gone._ She belonged to Spencer._ No—Elliot never cared for any of his kin and Oswell was dead._ Was there anyone hunting her? He couldn't answer that question with his spotty memory, but he knew she certainly didn't belong to Chris. That was just silly.

"I wonder if Chris knows she's a Spencer," Jake mumbled to himself, leaning to look at Sheva again. "Man, if he doesn't, I'd love to see his face if he ever finds out."

Like a jackhammer, the ramming in Wesker's head was constant and painful. _Why do I feel this? I shouldn't feel a thing. _He held back the need to scream as the throbbing worsened. He was about to stand when movement made him sick. He looked out the window, only to have his stomach churn to see blue water's below. Before he could reattempt to stand again, Jake told him to wait.

"Before you changed subjects, there's something I was getting at," he started.

Wesker wanted to rip the boy's head off, but the pounding in his head was so loud that it kept him paralyzed. However, his vocal cords worked fine and so he decided to attack Jake verbally. He leaned forward in his seat despite his entire body feeling sick.

"Something about Muller? I have no desire to talk about that pathetic, forgotten woman."

The pain in his head increased majorly when Jake's palm hit Wesker's chin, sending the older man back in his seat. He couldn't hold back the groan when he could feel his heartbeat in his head. He was about to shout at the boy, but Jake stood and grasped Wesker's throat in a choke.

"I'd be careful what you say about her. I'm her son and guess what? I'm your son, too. That's what I was getting at. I don't know what I was expecting my father to be like, but it definitely wasn't you," Jake sneered, letting go of Wesker's throat and standing tall to look down at the man.

"That's impossible," Wesker whispered, holding his head in his hands.

But as he squeezed his eyes shut, the math in his head seemed to do itself and soon he matched dates together. He and Kayla met in late '90, had a relationship, then she left after they broke up to go home in Edonia, and Jake was about twenty or twenty one, meaning Jake would be about the right age when he and Kayla were sleeping together…

"Oh, God," was Wesker's only reaction words before he shot up from his seat quickly and rushed to the lavatory at the back of the jet, slamming the door behind him and heaving the acid's in his stomach into the toilet.

Jake laughed without humor as he stepped around to sit across from Sheva, who was now awake, starring at the closed lavatory door. She set her feet on the ground and sat straight, looking to Jake with raised eyebrows. He told her to guess what just happened.

"You told him that you're his son," she predicted.

"Bingo," Jake nodded. "He reacted better than I thought he would."

"I'm sorry that he said all those things to you," she said softly.

She reached over and patted his knee, not letting her hand rest there so it didn't seem terribly awkward. She could hear Wesker practically coughing up his stomach in the small room behind her, making her cringe every time he gaged. It was odd, she thought, that he should have gotten so sick. But from what she wasn't sure in the slightest.

Jake shook his head, dismissing the apology. He had no desire to let his father's words concerning his mother affect him anymore than they had. As Sheva dug around in her bag, she pulled out one of those compact hair brushes that folded into a tiny rectangle. She pulled it apart, bringing the plastic bristles to comb out the tangles in her hair. Jake watched her, staring at the rock on her left ring finger. Initially when he met her, he didn't notice. But now it was all he could stare at. Boy, was Redfield gonna hunt him down.

"So," Jake started, leaning forward a bit, "you're marrying Chris Redfield, huh?"

Sheva stilled her movement for a second, scanning Jake's features to find he was calm as can be. She pulled her hair into a low ponytail, fixed her pale yellow blouse, and sat back.

"Yes. We were supposed to marry in March—our four year anniversary since we met—but he had gone missing and hadn't been found until two weeks ago. He was coming home yesterday and I was going to be at the airport waiting for him, but..." she trailed off as her voice went to a whisper and her eyes stared at her hands.

It was Jake's turn to pat Sheva's knee, letting his hand rest on her denim pants for a few seconds before pulling away. Though it wasn't his fault, he did feel a small twist of guilt to have put her in the position she was. However, he didn't pout over it because she _did_ choose to go with him and he didn't exactly favor Chris, so he let the guilt go. The only thing he would apologize for was his father's rudeness towards her since he'd woken up outside the motel.

"How well do you know Wesker?" Jake asked.

A sigh escaped her as she noted Wesker had stopped gagging and she could hear the sink's faucet in the lavatory. She turned her attention to Jake with a small frown.

"That's a long story for another time, if you don't mind," she told him as kindly as possible.

He nodded, looking out the window to see they were above the fluffy clouds. When he spoke, it was in a voice so soft that he had no idea he could speak such a way. It was like everything that had been happening to him lately had even modified his voice, let alone his faith.

"You know, I had never been on a plane until I came to America a few days ago." He cocked his head to the side for a moment with a smirk. "Well, as long as you don't count when my mother was pregnant and she flew to Edonia almost twenty two years ago or when I was on that helicopter with Sher—I mean, someone."

"Do you miss your mother?" Sheva inquired with the same softness he had in his voice.

He looked as if he'd laugh, but as soon as his lips curved up, they fell into a thin line. He looked to her with not really any emotion but maybe a teaspoon of nostalgia in his gaze.

"That's a long story for another time, if you don't mind," he repeated her words, not meaning for it to come across offensive in the slightest. She didn't seem to take it that way, fortunately.

They didn't say much for some time and Wesker seemed to refuse to come out of the small room. He was probably trying to figure out how Jake's conceiving even happened, trying to replay in his mind the times he had been so irresponsible to have unprotected sex with Kayla Muller. Sheva didn't entertain the idea. She had not one ounce of desire to think of the man that was treating her badly. Let him puke out his innards for all she cared.

"How do you know Isaac Tate?" Jake suddenly sprung the question, making Sheva shift with a furrow in her brow.

"He's my brother," she told him straight. "And I'm going to have a talk with him when we get to the mansion. I tell him everything. He didn't tell me a thing about this whole breaking Wesker out of cryostasis. How could he keep that from me?"

"He probably didn't want to get you in trouble," Jake tried defending her brother.

Sheva agreed, but she still was angry with Isaac. He better prepare himself for a lecture when she landed and stood in front of him. She could just imagine his expression when he sees her arrive. _It'll be something to remember, _Sheva thought with annoyance.

* * *

**Author's note:** _If you're thinking to yourself, "has HUNK become a chauffeur? WTF!" I see where you would think that, but no, he has not. HUNK is one of my favorite characters from the games and I'm still holding my breath until Capcom comes out with some sort of game that features him as the main character. (I'm going to be holding my breath for a long time if not forever.) But because I want to feature him in this story somehow, like the last, he'll just make the lone cameo in here._

_As for the surprise Wesker got, I don't blame you if you think it was really underplayed or rather blah. But I did it that way because I don't see Jake as a guy who says stuff like "I'm your son, Papa! Hug me!" I don't think he's one for big celebrations or the major hoopla. I think he'd just lay the cards on the table and wait for Wesker's next move. Agree or disagree, that's just how I see it._

_littlevamp__: Haha, most certainly not our typical criminals on the run. I don't know why, but when I read that in your review, I imagined them in those striped shirts with black beanies and masks like how burglars were depicted in silent films… Anyways, I'm getting off track. Thank you, I'm excited for you to see what's gonna happen, too. :) Oh, and I just wanted to say that I really like your Claire/Wesker story. Sorry, I haven't made it a favorite yet but I promise I will. I've made it like a fourth through it so far. :)  
__Sasusakui__: Haha, Sheva passed out for the win. Jake's gotta be sweet to make up for Wesker's grumpiness. I'm gonna keep going, I promise!  
__Comix777__: Haha, that's how I see Wesker half the time! As a little brat. Oh, you know, with Wesker he has to have that sharp, witty tongue of his. Then it's not Wesker anymore.  
__Aukotber__: It's ok! Oh really? How does Jake remind you of Wesker? Oh Isaac. I feel like he wouldn't know what to do with Wesker if he wasn't given orders. Like he's too insecure of his decisions… I like that you said Wesker is his "usual butthole self" because that is so accurate, haha. I wish I could tell you what's going to happen in here. I just want to spill details so badly! But I must contain myself. :(  
__REFan__: I haven't decided if Wesker is going to recall his memories, if Sheva will help him remember, or if he'll stay left out of the loop… What do you think? Maybe a mix of the first two.  
__Ulimolu__: Hmm, Wesker human, you say? *scratches chin* I don't know… Really, I don't know yet, haha. I haven't decided. Oh my, when Chris discovers the scandalous affair of Sheva and Wesker, the guy's gonna have a hissy!  
__Lollipop Lolli__: I like Jake, too. And really, someone needs to give me one valid point why you wouldn't jump Wesker's bones! I'm being serious. No, I'm kidding, haha. Girl, I felt like a balloon (as I do every year) after Thanksgiving dinner. So, totally, it's normal to feel like that. :)_

_Sorry for the long A/N! I think I have a problem with talking too much on here. But besides my rambling, let me know what you think in a review, please! How do you think Isaac's going to react when Sheva show's up beside Jake and Wesker? What will Sheva do?_

_-Sarai_

_*"Pedophobia" is the fear of children._


	5. Truce

**5. Truce**

* * *

Why couldn't they have gotten a dog or cat? Or even a gerbil? The silence in the condo was driving Chris mental. The TV became repetitive and dull, not to mention the people inside the box couldn't reply when he'd yell at the screen. Music just made everything seem glummer and his hands subconsciously grabbed or clicked Sheva's favorite songs instead of his own. It'd been nearly three days now and it was just a downward spiral, sinking deeper and faster into the abyss of loneliness and depression.

Moving from his stationary position on the living room floor, Chris sat straight up when he heard the lock to the front door turning. He could see over the lip of the couch the knob to the front entrance turning, turning more left as his heart thumped in his chest harder and harder. Was Sheva home? Was that her unlocking the door to come inside and call out to him that she was back? Should he go welcome her and help her if she had brought home groceries or work from the office? He was a flash close to standing when the door opened and stood in the doorway not his Sheva, but his old pal, Jill Valentine.

A groan and scoff escaped him with a force, falling back to the floor in a heap. His body laid spread eagle on the red rug in the middle of lounging furniture. In this spot, it blocked the sun's shining rays coming from the large windows and burning his pupils. He flung an arm over his eyes when Jill stood over him, bending while she huffed. She placed a hand over her very pregnant belly to look at him, having to peer over her stomach. Her brown hair fell around her face as her blue eyes scanned his lazy figure. She stood straight, sighing, and kicked him in the side. She did so again when he swatted her legs away.

"Go away," he mumbled, turning over to lie on his stomach.

"Oh, jeez," he heard Jill wheeze. "Get up you big lug. Just lying around and moping isn't going to help you _or_ Sheva. C'mon, don't make me make you stand up."

"You don't understand, Jill," he whined. "And you couldn't make me move if you tried. You'd go into premature labor."

"You're probably right, I'd likely give birth right here on this floor," she sarcastically agreed. "But the good thing? I'm not the one who's going to make you get up."

"I'll break Carlos's arm if he tries, too," he claimed defensively.

Carlos Oliveira, Jill's husband and baby daddy of the fetus growing inside of the woman looming over Chris right now, was a pretty strong guy. But Chris could take him even if he was three sheets to the wind with so much liquor in his system. And now that Chris no longer drank, a fight with Carlos was just a humorous threat.

"If you broke Mr. Oliveira's arm, Captain Redfield, I'd have to report you for assault," a voice stated.

Chris didn't even have to look up to see who that it was speaking, that snooty voice was identifiable even through a static-y radio. In all honesty, he'd probably have an easier time hiding his irritation more for Ada Wong than Alyssa Ashcroft. Ashcroft was a snoot that always got her way. _Her way or the highway, _he would tell Sheva when he'd come home complaining about her.

"And plus," Alyssa added, "Mrs. Oliveira would be very upset with you if you did that."

Neither woman saw as Chris mouthed her words with a snotty look on his face, sticking his tongue out in mockery.

"You can call me Jill," the brunette said to Alyssa. Jill looked around for a moment, scanning the areas she could see and frowning. "Sheva would be very angry if she saw what you've done with the place."

"Yeah, well you're not Sheva, are you?" he snapped.

All was quiet save for the sound of Jill's shoes clicking on the hardwood floors. Soon heard was the refrigerator door in the kitchen open, then clicking shoes, and the sound of a cap twisting. Chris bellowed in surprise when cold water hit his neck and head, the water continuously pouring on him until he shot up and moved out of the way. Jill tipped the water bottle upright again and smiled at Chris, cocking a hip out and placing a hand on her belly.

"You act like a brat one more time," she warned, "I'm pouring the rest of this bottle on you with no hesitation."

Grabbing the blanket that hung over the couch, Chris dried himself off. He plopped on the faux leather couch—Sheva didn't like the idea of having real leather furniture, so they agreed on the no animal cruelty look alike—with the blanket draped around his neck.

"Damn, pregnant life changed you," Chris told Jill, watching her as she waved at him and went back to the kitchen in the next room.

He watched with a sneer as Alyssa took a seat on the neighboring couch, holding her briefcase in her lap and looking at him with just as much annoyance. Neither made the attempt to speak first, they just studied each other with hostile eyes, like Rikki-Tikki-Tavi* staring down the cobra. Chris liked to think he was the mongoose. Alyssa was _definitely_ the snake.

"Are you going to let me talk without acting like a jackass?" she inquired with a perfectly plucked brow raised.

"Are you going to control the bitchiness?" When she scoffed, he smirked. "Good, it's an agreement. Go ahead; talk."

"Well, I've done some thinking—"

"That's never good," Chris proudly said.

"Shut it and listen," she hissed.

_Yes, she was definitely the snake,_ Chris thought. He settled in the couch and watched as Jill came back in as she ate black olives from a bowl, stabbing a little oval vegetable with a fork and popped it into her mouth. She took a seat next to him, stealing the remote and scanning channels on the television while happily eating her snack. There was a moment when Chris wanted to rip the food away from Jill, claiming Sheva was going to use that for a dish she was going to be making when she got home. But he controlled himself and focused on the cobra Alyssa.

"I've been thinking," she repeated, holding her hand up in case he might have the urge to insult her again. "If Wesker has broken out, he must have had some sort of help. He's been sleeping for four years, the man cannot just walk out of the containment tube he was kept in and just walk away unnoticed by security."

"Wesker isn't exactly a man, though," Chris noted.

"You can say that again," Jill agreed with a mouthful of olives.

Alyssa rolled her eyes at them. "While Wesker was in cryostasis, the Prototype virus in his system diminished. Almost like detox, while sleeping, his body learned how to live without the virus or serum he used to depend on. Granted, there is still a fraction in his system so he still has more strength than the average man. He's just much easier to contain now. At least that's what the scientists that looked over him have been saying for some time now," she tapped her finger to her chin, thinking to herself.

Chris leaned forward, suddenly interested. Jill on his side was listening, but she had already been told all about this before she and Alyssa arrived at Chris's condo.

"Go on," Chris told Alyssa.

"Wesker is not the man you used to know. He probably has the same personality, but strength wise, he's changed. And most likely, he's suffering from amnesia after sleeping so long. It's like a coma, almost. When you wake from a coma, you are exhausted, tiresome, weak, et cetera. This leads me to believe that he had help getting out of that tube. Someone smart enough to know all the cameras around that could be watching him so he pulled all the wires and turned them around in case there was an emergency battery inside, which there are supposed to be."

"Why are you saying 'he'? Do you know who it was that broke him out?" Chris questioned, needing to know who it was so he could wring their neck.

"Eh, no, not yet. It's not official, but it's pretty obvious in my opinion," she admitted. Chris gestured for her to go on with an impatient wave of his hand. "I'm surprised you don't know who I'm thinking of. I think it was Jake Muller that broke him out."

"His brain gets a little muddled for the first few days or weeks after something traumatic happens," Jill told the other woman on Chris's behalf. "Give him some time and then he'll be telling _you_ all the facts."

Chris said nothing to Jill's words; he was too infatuated with the thought that Jake took Wesker. Why hadn't he guessed that? It was so obvious. After China, Jake went missing, everyone assuming he went on vacation from all the ordeals he had just gone through, including Sherry Birkin. But Wesker going missing after Jake disappeared... _Duh, you idiot, it's obvious,_ Chris thought to himself.

"What about Sheva? Do you have any ideas where she might be?"

Alyssa blew air out of her lungs as she looked into her briefcase, looking over files of past reports. "Well, my guess is that she stumbled in on Jake waking Wesker up and he either threatened her or she willingly went along with him and helped Wesker escape."

Alyssa raised both her hands when Chris shot up with a pissed off look. She already knew he wouldn't like the idea that Sheva had gone willingly. She told him to wait, telling him to sit back down to let her finish. Surprising both women, he did.

"The last we know of Agent Alomar's whereabouts are when she talked to you over the phone in her office right before you went to the airport in Hong Kong. That's when we lose her. She must have left her office, locked everything of hers up, and went to go home," Alyssa reenacted locking a door with her hands as she spoke, intensifying the storytelling. "But some time as she was leaving, she must have noticed the labs below were unlocked. So she went to investigate, walked in on Jake and his father, and then they all three left. And I meet the dead end."

"Sheva couldn't have gone willingly," Chris stated firmly. "She hates Wesker as much as I do. I know she does."

"I believe you," she responded, letting that sink in as he accepted it. "That's why I'm willing to help you look for her. And before you can refuse my assistance, I'm really the only person you have for help. Your sister can't work this case because she's with Terra Save and it's exclusively with the BSAA; Piers Nivans is not with us anymore, may he rest in peace; Jill is seven months pregnant, she's not up for such a mission or investigation; Mr. Oliveira wouldn't be much help because he'd be too focused on Jill and their baby, and he talks too much," Alyssa listed off. "Sorry Jill."

"It's okay," Jill smiled. "He does talk a lot."

"I'm the only person able to help as much as you need it," Alyssa reaffirmed.

Chris eyed her, looking her from her expensive maroon leather boots—boots that would make Sheva upset that they were real leather—her red suit, to her blonde hair and blue eyes. He entertained the idea how many men cowered to a woman like her, intimated by her appearance and the browbeating air about her. He wasn't a coward though. He could stand up to her anytime, any day. He'd just have to make sure not to make her too angry to avoid getting scratched by those perfectly painted pink nails of hers.

"Fine. I'll accept your help," he crossed his arms over his chest. "But my main priority is finding Sheva and when we catch Wesker, I plan on killing him."

"Fair enough. So I'll help you find her, I'll take care of the media and sister companies asking about both of our missing peoples whereabouts. You do as much as you can to find both of these two. I'm tired of the big heads breathing down my neck. And it's barely only been three days!" She scoffed, straightening out her appearance once her little outburst was done. She made sure her hair was in place before holding her hand out in front of him. "And we have to get along during this. If we keep fighting then we won't make any progress. Truce?"

Chris stared at her hand. He could see how her veins showed below the surface of her skin a little more than the average woman that she must have been someone who worked out daily. It didn't surprise him. She was a snake that cared a little too much about her appearance. After deciding she'd have red scales if she were a reptile, he took her hand and shook it firmly.

"Truce."

* * *

Sheva had a stomp in her step as she walked off the jet with Jake right behind her. No one, including HUNK, bothered to help Wesker as he slowly followed with a sick look to his face and his hands clutched to his stomach. Jake chuckled at the sight, knowing Wesker deserved it because he didn't help when Sheva was exhausted before when they boarded the jet. As soon as everyone's feet were on the stone roof of Wesker's Ireland mansion and off HUNK's aircraft, the hatch began to close and all the ex-Umbrella agent waited for was them to get far enough before he took off to God knows where.

"This place is huge," Jake noted in astonishment.

Sheva nodded, continuing to walk until she met the door that led to interior. "Wait till you see the inside," she said with no enthusiasm.

She was hoping Isaac was going to be right there when she got to the bottom floor in the entry hall. The time on the jet after she talked to Jake for a lengthy period, she had prepared what she was going to say to her half-brother. She was going to do her best to use the least amount of curse words, but if they slipped she wouldn't apologize.

Her step was fast as she walked down the staircase, seeing the door that led to the main entry way of the mansion. She could hear Wesker going much slower and Jake wasn't as fast as her, though she guessed she was practically running down the stairs. When she made it to the first floor, she could hear talking in some room far off. She could hear a male and female.

"Isaac!" she shouted at the tops of her lungs.

The talking cut off and she could hear shuffling. Then from a room that she assumed was the den, a familiar face peeked into the hallways, staring at her. Her eyes narrowed, details of Isaac's frightened expression becoming clear in her vision. He nearly fell over as he gaped, but caught himself and straightened out the button up shirt he wore.

"Sheva?" he called dumbfounded. "Perfect timing," she could hear him mumble.

He stepped forward, walking straight for her when she heard Jake stand beside her. Isaac approached them both, standing in front of them with a nervous smile. He shook Jake's hand, telling him it was nice to meet him to which Jake said the same. He thanked Isaac, expressing his appreciation for the help in breaking Wesker out.

"It was the least I could do," Isaac told him. "The surprise I had to discover Wesker has a son. Where is he, by the way?"

On cue, Wesker emerged from the corridor and stood in front of the three, his hair messy and eyes in slivers. He took steps into the mansion, relieved to recognize the large estate, and held back the need to pass out right there on the stone floor. He looked to Isaac when he heard his name being called, surprised how much older he looked since the last time Wesker saw him.

"Sir Wesker," Isaac greeted.

Jake looked to Sheva with an arched brow, interested as to why Isaac would call his father something so formal. Sheva only shook her head, not completely agreeing with the respect Isaac always showed Wesker.

"Sir, you don't look well," Isaac noted, showing hesitancy towards Wesker's appearance. "Is there something I can do?"

"Is the code to the lab below still the same?" the eldest grunted his question.

"Uh, yes. They haven't been used for quite some time, though," Isaac told him.

He said no more as Wesker took off down the hallway, turning a corner towards the staircase to the dormant lab and research area below. Isaac turned back to his two guests slowly, slightly frightened by Wesker's foreign behavior. After telling himself to worry about that later and focus on the major situation at hand, Isaac told Jake where he would be staying, telling him he was welcome for as long as he chose to stay. Then time to really get down to business, after Jake left to find his room, Isaac grasped Sheva's shoulders and looked at her apologetically.

"Before you say a word, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Jake waking up Wesker and that I was helping him. Jake has a right to know his father so I felt it right that I could help as much to my capabilities. I was going to tell you some time, but I didn't want to get you in any trouble nor did I want to worry you," he explained with a soft voice. "Can you forgive me?"

Sheva was supposed to give him a stern lecture, to be angry with him. She meant to lay down the rules and tell him what he did was wrong. But in that moment, as she stood in front of the brother she hadn't seen in four years, all her anger vanished. Gone without a trace. She fell into his arms, hugging him tightly and crying into his shoulder. When she spoke, it came in a flurry of words.

"It's okay, I forgive you. I missed you so much. I was scared when I found Jake breaking Wesker out. I followed because...oh because I don't know. I thought I knew but I don't. Isaac, Albert's not acting like himself. He's forgotten me and he hates me and everything is terrible. And I left Chris at home and he's probably freaking out."

As she cried harder, Isaac smoothed her hair and rubbed circles on her back. He hushed her, telling her to take deep breathes and to calm down. In time, she did. She wiped her eyes and nose, apologizing for being so weak. He chuckled.

"There's nothing weak about you, Sheva," he told her truthfully.

Hearing shuffling coming from the room he was in before Sheva made her presence known, Isaac was reminded of the serious predicament he had to tell Sheva about. He started leading her down the hall, holding her to his side as he spoke quietly to her.

"Sheva, there's someone who wants to meet you. You can't freak out, okay? She's only been here a few days but she's been asking a lot about you. I'd wait till you slept some but I know you'd want me to introduce you two now. Just stay calm. It was a shock for me," he sighed.

"Isaac, what's going on? Who am I going to meet? Who is she?" Sheva probed as they came into the brightly lighted den.

"She is me," a scratchy yet attractive voice called out.

As Sheva looked to this person talking, she could hear the thick Australian accent this voice had. She was surprised by this woman's appearance. She was beautiful, gorgeous really. Older than herself, Sheva guessed she was about 28 or 29. The woman was of pale but golden skin, wild sandy blonde curls that surrounded her head like a lion's mane, and bright blue eyes that sparkled as she grinned at Sheva. It was silly, she thought, but this woman shared similarities to Isaac in appearance. Sheva let the woman take her hand in an excited handshake.

"You must be Sheva Alomar," the woman guessed with a grand smile and pearly teeth. "Oh my, this is such a pleasure."

Upon closer inspection, Sheva saw the piercing on her nose and real amethyst stud earrings she wore. And the hand that clutched onto her own had a tattoo on the inside of her wrist. But the woman wore a long sleeve shirt, hiding most of that tattoo. Sheva gave Isaac an inquisitive crooked smile as the woman continued to shake her hand eagerly.

"Um, yeah. I'm Sheva," she looked to the other female. "And you are?"

"Oh, stupid me," the woman let go of Sheva and slapped a hand to her forehead. "You must think I'm some crazy stalker! I'm Piper. Piper Mulligan. I'm, uh... I'm your sister."

* * *

**Author's note:** _And Sheva faints again after Piper's confession… No, I'm kidding._ _My fingers are crossed that Alyssa has come across semi likable in this chapter. She's a tough gal with a perfect appearance, so says her REWiki page._

_littlevamp__: I feel sorry for Sheva, too. But Wesker is naturally a butthead, so… Haha, the lovey dovey moments will come in time, hopefully! Maybe tossing all his cookies up will make Wesker nicer? Eh, maybe not. But anyways, thank you. :)  
__Ultimolu__: Chris might punch another boulder he'll be so angry with Wesker… Ha, I will pat the man on the back that pokes Wesker out of his grumpiness! Maybe Jake can do it. :D  
__TealBug__: Jake "Asskicker" Muller. Totally accurate, haha. Poor Isaac, he probably would be scared of Sheva.  
__Auktober__: Haha, well thank you for noticing the title of the last chapter. And thank you for saying so about Wesker being written well. I don't want to write him OOC, but he scares me so it's hard at times that it just kinda happens. Jake does seem pretty laid back in the games. And I imagine him fighting with words and fists, not one or the other. Ha, maybe Wesker will rip his throat out later for talking back to Daddy, haha. Totally. Wesker is loopy, but there are dormant feelings for Sheva in that old body of his! Thank you. :)_

_I just wanted to thank you all for being so nice and supportive with this story and how it's coming along. These Sheva/Wesker stories are so intimidating, let me tell you! I think it's just because I'm scared of Wesker 99.9% of the time when I'm not drooling over him. I mean… If you have any comments, questions, suggestions, or concerns, feel free to contact me via review, PM, or whatever else is out there. Thank you again for the encouragement! :)_

_-Sarai_

_*"Rikki-Tikki-Tavi" is a short story from "The Jungle Book" (1894) by Rudyard Kipling._


	6. Revelation

**6. Revelation**

* * *

"Surprise!"

Piper and Isaac looked on as Sheva stood still as a stone, her mouth slightly agape and her eyes looking at nothing in particular. She gave no response when Isaac touched her shoulder, asking if she was alright. Piper watched with a slowly fading smile, concern lacing her beautiful face as she held her hands to her chest.

"Oh, my," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I should have told you in a different way. That was way too soon."

Raising her hands, Sheva shook her head and stepped around the woman who claimed to be her sister. She took a seat on an antique couch of navy blue velvet and dark wooden details. Isaac took a seat in the lounging chair next to her and tried getting a better look at her while Piper sat with Sheva on the couch but a seat away, not wanting to push any personal space.

"I'm fine. I'm just a little lightheaded," Sheva tried explaining. "You don't need to apologize. I don't know if telling me any other way would really do anything. How did you find out we're related?"

"Oof, that's a long story," Piper pouted, but settled into her seat to begin her story.

She started with her childhood, the earliest she could remember. As a young girl, Piper lived with her single mother and the few boyfriends her mother would have around. Her life wasn't like every girl's should be. She explained that though her mother was a kind woman, she would show signs of schizophrenia since the time Piper turned eight.

"She didn't lash out often," Piper told Sheva. "But there were these few times that the phone would ring and my mother would answer, completely fine and happy. Either it was the person calling or the conversation they had, but she would slam the phone to the hook and just start screaming. She'd grab me and lock me in the closest in the hallway. As a girl I just did what she told me to do because I was too scared to ask her about anything. I know now that the person calling was Elliot Spencer checking up on me, the father I never knew…"

What her mother had always told her about her father was that he was a coward that couldn't handle the idea of raising a child, so he left her and her mother alone and deserted. Her mother, originally from England, fled to Australia, hoping to start a new life with her young daughter. Piper knew now that she was conceived for one purpose and that purpose was to serve a life in science. When she was an infant and became the test subject for the Spencer family, Piper was injected with a variety of viruses. Like other Spencer children, her cells denied the viruses and she was immune. A breakthrough in its own right, the Spencer's had no need for this child after seeing this result in Elliot's previous children. So they showed a fraction of mercy and let her live, handing her over to her birth mother.

Piper knew none of this her entire life, leading to believe her father was some deadbeat that wasn't even worth pondering over. She and her mother lived a semi tame life, save for the times her mother would lash out and lock her away in a tight, dark space.

"I think now that I know who that was on the phone with my mother that she was locking me away in some poor way of protecting me. I think she thought if she hid me, my father would never find me. She was so scared that he'd come back for her and me."

The storytelling led to Piper relaying her older teenage years, still at this point in the timeline not knowing her real father and relations. Both she and Isaac could see the shame on her pretty face when she told them about her years doing stupid things like self-harming, drinking excessively, and getting into hard drugs.

"It was a hard time," she murmured. "I had just gotten into this rut of self destruction. I hated everyone and everything. One minute I wanted to kill someone and the next I wanted to kill myself. I took it out on my body. I'd lock myself away in my room and do things to my body that no one should even conjure up. I'd sleep around with guys and girls to fill that void that grew more and more every day. I never wanted to admit it, but I felt alone and unwanted. My mother was going nuts and my father didn't even want to have a part in my life. If no one loved me…"

"How could you love yourself," Isaac finished for her.

"Yes, exactly," Piper nodded.

Sheva eyed them both, feeling slightly awkward that Isaac was finishing Piper's sentences. The more she studied them, the more she saw the resemblance they shared. A pang of jealousy struck Sheva. She and Isaac didn't look a thing alike, which helped hide the secret that they were related four years ago until she had discovered their relation. Piper had his eye color, his hair color, and seemingly the same mindset. It was then she realized she felt left out.

"It wasn't until I was about 25 that I started to get my life back on track," the blonde continued. "I had lost contact with my mother during that time and it wasn't until I recovered that I found out she was in a mental institution, admitted by the landlord at her last apartment."

Piper rubbed her forehead, looking to the floor with sad eyes. She told them her mother was mentally gone, no longer the woman she had grown up with. And besides the times her mother would lock her in the closet or keep secrets about her father, Piper knew that the most important person in her life was indeed her mother. After a month when Piper found her mother after rebuilding her life, her mother passed away in her sleep, the doctors claiming she felt no pain when she left the world.

"Once she passed, I was left with her belongings and inheritance. It wasn't a lot of money, but it paid for school and I was able to get my degree in Biology. She also left me notes and letters that she wrote about my father, but I had no desire to meet him or read about him or anything. He didn't want to be in my life and I didn't want him in it either. So I just kept those letters in a box, hidden away for years.

"Then a few months ago, I just started hitting depression again. I don't know what it was. I was doing well with work and my boyfriend, but I just felt so…sad. I told myself I would not—_would not_—get into the life of drugs and self-harming again, so I started searching for ways to make myself feel better and get down to the nitty-gritty of my depression."

A smile blossomed on Piper's face, making Sheva slightly uncomfortable not knowing why she was grinning so happily. Her tale went on to her search for the reason and cause of her gloomy emotions. After lots of contemplating and thinking, Piper felt what she was missing in her life and what was causing this rut, was the fact that she had no family left; no one to have that link with that you can only get through blood connection.

"I sucked it up and looked at those old letters my mother left me about my father," Piper stated. "In the letter's, I found out his name. Elliot Spencer. Okay, so I started looking all over for any relation to the name Spencer. After a while, I discovered some deserted mansion that the files could only be found in the largest library in Sydney. So I got the address, went to check out this place with little hopes, and I found revelations.

"I thought I was going to find cousins and uncles, you know, that sort of thing. But in that old Spencer mansion, I found these files and discovered I not only had family, but I had brothers and sisters! I searched names everywhere. You won't believe how let down I was when I'd either come up with nothing on some of the Spencer children or to find out they had died. But I found two survivors of the family; you guys!"

Isaac looked to Sheva with little to no emotion on his face, waiting for her to say the first word. She couldn't read a thing on his face that would reveal his thoughts. He remained neutral as Sheva turned to Piper.

"Wow," was all Sheva could say. "That's quite the story."

"Where are those files you were reading through?" Isaac questioned.

Sheva shot him a look, the spark of disappointment crossing her features as he looked at their sister with an arched brow. He shrugged at her, trying to let her know that he was genuinely curious. Piper slouched in posture, obviously disheartened by their reactions. She tucked hair behind her ear and sighed.

"I have them in my bags. I can get them for you. I swear I'm not lying. I can take a DNA test or something."

Leaning forward, Sheva laid a hand on Piper's shoulder, trying to comfort her with words.

"I believe you. It's just such a surprise. But I need to know, how much did you learn about me?"

Piper eyed her curiously, trying to understand her question. Realization dawned and she shook her head.

"If you're talking about the whole DNA, viruses bonding on cellular levels kind of stuff, I only read a small bit of it. They didn't have much in the files. They were pretty old and a lot of them were unfinished. The most recent file that had been written was the confirmation that Elliot had died. Why? Is there something I shouldn't have read about you, Sheva?"

"Uh, it's just stuff that I'm trying to forget myself and that I rather not everyone knew about. You understand, don't you?"

Piper nodded as Isaac gave Sheva a gentle pat on the back for knowing what that stuff was she was trying to forget. Sheva pursed her lips out of awkwardness caused by the silence that followed and played with the hem of her shirt. She gave a nervous chuckle when she had enough with the quietness.

"Heh, so what's with all these Spencer mansions?" she anxiously asked.

"Oh, I know. It's ridiculous," Piper agreed, seemingly unaffected by the nerves and tension in the room. "There's the one in Australia which is pretty much dumped. It was so dusty there that I was coughing for weeks after I visited. There is one in Germany, England, the one that blew up in the Midwest of America, and I think there's one that was being built in Japan, but the construction was scrapped when Oswell passed."

Isaac and Sheva nodded, surprised by all that Piper knew. They both looked to where Piper was waving when she smiled largely and gestured for someone to sit by her. Their eyes settled on a man of medium height and of a lean and skinny build. He had stiffness in his walk as he approached the three. Isaac turned back to Sheva, already knowing this other guest of his while she was left out of the loop. The man did not take the seat like Piper had suggested, but leaned down to speak into her ear.

Once he was done with whatever it was he needed to say to Piper and only Piper, he turned to Sheva after her newly discovered sister introduced the two.

"Sheva, this is my boyfriend, Flynn Watson," she explained with a soft smile. "Flynn, this is Sheva Alomar, my sister."

"Nice to meet you," he said in monotone, shaking Sheva's hand.

Upon closer inspection, Sheva saw the dark shade of china blue in his eyes. He didn't make eye contact when she said something unimportant to him as a greeting, either it being disinterest or low self-esteem. From what she could see, Flynn's hair was a red shade, buzzed to an extremely short length that resembled what one would have in the military. He wore a simple baseball cap on his head with the hockey team "Montreal Canadiens"* logo on the front of the hat, shadowing his features, but Sheva could see he had a boyish face to match his boyish, yet monotone, voice.

Apparently whatever Flynn had whispered to Piper was important, causing her to stand and excuse herself. She didn't hug, but she took Sheva's hand in her own and told her how happy she was that she had finally gotten to meet her. She made her promise they'd go on a walk together or have dinner together so they could talk more. Flynn was already leaving the room without a farewell when Piper had finally finished talking and followed him out, leaving Sheva and Isaac alone.

"C'mon, you must be exhausted," Isaac assumed as he stood and wrapped an arm around Sheva when she stood as well. "I'll show you to your room. It's still the same "beast" room. I made the west wing the place where kids would rest when boarding school is happening, but fortunately for our patience and ears, they are still all on break for the time being and so are the fellow teachers and tutors."

Sheva was quiet as they walked down the halls, Isaac's arm still around her. "What do you think of Piper?" she suddenly inquired.

He stopped and thought for a moment. "I don't know, really. She seems nice enough and I believe her. Her boyfriend's kind of weird, but she told me he has a medical condition so that's why he pulls her away sometimes. Something about needing his medication or something... She's pretty much his nurse it seems. I feel like they settled for each other."

He gasped when Sheva elbowed him gently in the ribs. They had made it to the bedroom she had stayed in four years ago when she wasn't locked up in a cell or with Wesker in his bedroom.

"Hey, you asked and I'm answering. But we'll talk about it later after you've rested. I'm glad you're here, Sheva."

Isaac spontaneously hugged her, his cheek resting on her hair. Sheva was slightly caught off guard by the affectionate embrace, but hugged him back anyways, mumbling into his shirt as she replied.

"I'm glad to be here, too. You know, save for the whole Wesker hates me and I left Chris at home," she listed off until she sighed heavily.

"Like I said, we'll talk later," he murmured and pulled away, leaving her to sleep.

And that's what she did. She crawled into the old but comfortable bed after looking up at the paintings on the ceiling of sad beasts. She settled into the comforters and closed her eyes, falling asleep instantaneously. Her mind was filled of worries that revolved around Chris and Wesker, but instead of dreaming of either, she had that same nightmare of the monster coming to kill her, haunting her until she woke.

* * *

Rubbing his temples roughly, Wesker fought the migraine pounding in his skull as his eyes scanned the files he had looked over plenty times now. The papers before him caught him up on times concerning Sheva Alomar, Murphy Bollard, Elliot Spencer, and the details in between.

Sheva Alomar, he learned, was his prisoner at one point in time. Files concerning her, however, confused him immensely. Wesker could easily recall the times when she was a young child, still living with her parents and then years after they were killed and Sheva had grown up with guerilla groups, having the opportunity to go to college in America, and then the beginnings when she was signing up for the god awful BSAA. But the files informed him that after the events in Kijuju—events he was still catching up on—he had kidnapped her, intended to run tests on her blood, but in the end was the one to call off all experiments.

But why? What had possessed him to stop such a necessity in research? She had the golden DNA that he and the long list of fellow scientists had been searching for. Granted, the results of her blood tests weren't perfection. She was still mortal in the fact that a virus could still kill her, but she was able to benefit from some viruses. Viruses that she bonded with on a cellular level, thus proving to be a major step forward in research. So why on earth would he, Albert Wesker, stop the tests to experiment on her as a whole organism than just blood samples?

This was a small concern for Wesker for there were much more situations to unravel.

Murphy Bollard was dead as was Elliot Spencer, both at the hands of Wesker. It didn't come to him as a surprise that he'd kill these two for they were tiresome, unnecessary, and useless. With a spotty memory, Wesker assumed he had brought Dr. Bollard on to test Alomar's DNA for the old man's intelligence. Though Bollard would never have been capable of the things Wesker could simply do with his arms tied behind him, the scientist was a genius on a human level. His assassination was most probably worthy of Wesker's time, though he couldn't remember what the motive in his murder was.

That was one of the bigger issues Wesker was dealing with; his memory proved to be lacking. The last true cognizant memory he had was of the image of rocky waters as he came closer and closer to the surface with Jill Valentine latched onto his body with a tight clutch. She had just practically tackled him like a linebacker out the window of the German Spencer estate, saving the petty Chris Redfield and sacrificing herself. Though he couldn't recall what happened after he and Valentine met the surface of the water they were plummeting to, the files of his journey after that were waiting for him to read more thoroughly.

But now it was 2013, six years after he and Valentine fell from the window. A quick look over files told Wesker that he had continued his research, giving a name to the project he been working on, Uroboros, and set hell on the town called Kijuju. Apparently he was able to make use of the pliable Valentine after she and him managed to survive the fall from the Spencer estate and used her as a weapon, her proving to be quite useful while he not only made plans for Uroboros, but kept an eye on Sheva Alomar from afar.

Then events happened that didn't interest Wesker very much. Events relating to Redfield and Alomar shooting rockets to his face while he swam in lava, Redfield claiming victory, Redfield getting involved with Alomar romantically…

Before he knew it, Wesker squeezed his fist so hard the pen he'd been holding broke into pieces and cut into his palm, causing blood to surface and trail down his wrist. He grabbed for a towel on the shelves to his left, not even flinching at the pain in his hand. It was the migraine that seemed to take most of his attention.

Then there was the situation of Jake Muller. A mess wouldn't quite describe it. A catastrophe was the correct definition. Though he'd like to question it, Wesker knew that Jake was truly his son. There was enough resemblance and traits, but it was the timeline in which Jake was conceived that fit and proved to be trustworthy. How did Kayla manage to keep a secret such as pregnancy from him? How could he have missed something that should have been so obvious? How could he let this happen?

To add more onto the list of complications, Wesker was feeling…different. His body was acting poorly, lower in quality. It was a concern to say the least. The Prototype virus in his system should have been acting accordingly and should have prevented these pains such as nausea, headaches and migraines. His usual fast healing abilities were also lacking. The cuts in his hand that were brought on by breaking the pen weren't healing like they should have. Skin ought to have been lacing together by now, scabs layering the wound and within an hour, there should have been nothing. But the cuts were still fresh, bleeding slowly, and admittedly, needing the attention of a bandage and disinfectant.

He had changed as did the people and places around him. But if he had anything to say about it all, Wesker would figure it out. He'd learn what it was that was happening to his body, he'd start testing Alomar's DNA and do a better job than Bollard did, and he'd do something about Jake. The idea of killing the boy crossed his mind, but if Jake had the same cellular makeup Wesker did, then he might prove to be useful in some ways. Wesker would keep him on, watch him and soon enough add him to the list of test subjects he'd gather. But first things first, he needed to know what was going on with his body.

* * *

**Author's note:**_ If you're wondering, Flynn is purposely vague in description and personality. We'll get to know him and Piper along the way, letting them grow as characters at a decent pace that I think should keep your interest well but still bring on questions. I have lots in store for them. (*Cue mysterious sound effects*) And we'll also see what's going on with Wesker and what's wrong with him, besides being a bit of a kook._

_littlevamp__: Haha, I love me a surprise! Thank you. :)  
__Aukotber__: Haha, Jill and Chris better bounce off one another well after going through the Mansion Incident and everything! I'm kidding. :) I'm glad you liked the "red scales" part! It was one of my favorites to write. I guess we can agree that someone needs to give Chris a break, right? Well, Piper has to have some sort of motive or purpose if she's going to make an appearance in the story, I just can't say why she's being included… I'm like yearning to write those Shesker moments. They need to get it on. Or at least have some lovey moments, haha. Thanks! :)  
__Sasusakui__: I love Riki-Tiki-Tavi! Well, Isaac and Piper have some similarities. Sheva doesn't because…well, I have to keep some of this canon and I can't change Sheva's appearance, haha. Thank you! :)  
__TealBug__: The Spencer Triplets. Oh jeez, that sounds like a nightmare! Haha, nothing gets past Wesker. He's all business.  
__Ultimolu__: Ah, perfect wakka wakka moment! Beware of Wesker's opposite Midas touch… you will die if you touch him, so they say…  
__Comix777__: Haha, Chris is freaking you out? That's not good! Indeed, the plot thickens… Who will Sheva end up with? It's pretty obvious, isn't it? :P  
__Sheva Redfield__: I'm glad you like it so far. Haha, Chris just needs someone to kick his butt to get him back in action. I know, Sheva's in for a roller coaster with all these siblings! Thank you. :)_

_So, what are your thoughts on these two new OC's? Are you sympathetic for Piper and her story? Are you curious about this "medical condition" Flynn has? Tell me all about it in a review, pretty please. I appreciate it greatly. :)_

_-Sarai_

_*The Montreal Canadiens are a professional hockey team located in Montreal, Quebec, Canada._


	7. Traitor

**7. Traitor**

* * *

"_Traitor!"_

_Eyes taking a dangerous second to look away from the monster coming for her, Sheva saw yet another figure standing off in the distance. Though not much could be seen, this person held a calm stature, but their voice screeched with anger that cut to the bone._

"_It's your fault! I wish you were never born! You're a traitor! He loved me more than he could ever love you!" the voice yelled with a loud growl. "Traitor!"_

_Sheva's heart ached at the words that she knew were directed towards her, but the aching didn't last long until Sheva's attention was once again brought back to the monster running towards her. The mutation spoke, his voice booming against her ears._

"_You should have listened," the monster roared. "Now I can't stop it."_

_Someone called for her to run, but that option was deserted when the monster stood before her, punching at the wall beside her head. After a short moment when the creature didn't make any move to hit her, she looked at his face and stood straight to come even closer. As his eyes opened, blue penetrated hazel for a small but seemingly long second while they gazed at one another, monster to woman._

"_Can't…s-stop it," he wheezed._

"_You can," Sheva managed to utter from the coldness of her lunges and the courage hiding away in her mind. "You don't need anyone to control it. You can do it. Just think about her and nothing else. Hold onto that image of her. You can control it. You'll walk out of here and go home to her. Just breathe and think of her."_

_All was silent in the cold place she and the monster occupied. Sheva could still see in the distance that same figure calling her a traitor seeming to grab something from their pocket, pulling out some type of device and finally pushing a button on this little mechanism. Her body jumped when the creature before her screamed in pain, falling to its scaly knees. Sheva would have tried to comfort the monster if it weren't breathing heavily and its fists curling into tight clutches of strength. She held her breath when the monster stood with its eyes turning to a shade of glowing red._

"_She's a traitor," the figure in the distance spoke aloud with a stern but not shouting voice. "Traitors don't get second chances in my book. Kill her!" the person bellowed, encouraging the monster to finish Sheva's life._

_What felt like hiding within her fear, Sheva's arms began to encircle her body as she closed her eyes, knowing what was to come. Before the whoosh of air came down on her as did the fists of the monster, she heard him whisper to her, making her resist the urge to sob._

"_Forgive me," the mutation murmured for only Sheva to hear and the woman subconsciously waiting for him in another country. The woman he'd never get to see again but protect until his last breath._

In a jolt and sudden alertness, Sheva sat straight up with a stiff back and fast breathes escaping her. Her hair swept the tops of her shoulders as she glanced around the room with disbelief running through her veins. Sun rays were forbidden to shine into the room by the clouds hanging low in the sky above, sending a grey luminance into the room made up of stone and wood. Every corner was silent, save for the loud wheezes Sheva produced as she told herself repeatedly, _it was just a dream._

Her heart slowed in beats and her breath steadied as she realized she was safe from a monster close to crushing her or some person calling her a traitor. Sheva questioned what she was saying to the monster as she ran her hands through her hair, tugging at the roots till she could feel a trace of pain run along her scalp. As she tugged at her dark brown locks, she played in her mind what she said to the monster.

"'_Go home to her'_? Who is she?" Sheva asked herself, falling back onto the bed with a loud sigh.

Not being able to help it, Sheva let out a terrified yelp when something large and warm pounced on top of her. Her arms flailed about, her mind thinking this was the monster coming from her dreams and attacking her in the life of the awake. When something that felt like a tongue licked her cheek, Sheva's yelps turned into gags. As she opened her eyes, she was met with the smiling face of a large dog, its tail hitting her shins excitedly.

After a moment of staring at one another, the St. Bernard licked her face again, and then turned its head towards the voice calling its name. It pushed off Sheva, causing her to huff and settled at the foot of her bed with its chin resting on her feet.

"Uh, sorry about that," Isaac apologized as he shut her bedroom door with his foot, a familiar silver tray in his hands. He walked towards her and set the tray on her lap, lifting the platter to reveal a hearty breakfast of eggs and bacon. Sheva thanked him and he told her it was nothing as he sat on the bed next to her. "Oh, this is Pinto," he announced with a wave to the dog. "Pinto, this is Sheva."

"Pinto?" Sheva inquired. "You named a huge dog Pinto?"

"Wasn't my idea," Isaac shrugged. "One of the kids had to leave him here before he left for summer break. The student's parents didn't want to take care of Pinto and they would have euthanized him if no one took him. So I adopted him for the time being until his owner comes back to school. Pinto's good company, he just likes to lick people."

"Better keep him from Wesker," Sheva mumbled and Isaac nodded in agreement with a heavy breath. "You really like running a boarding school, don't you?"

A smile blossomed on Isaac's face that was borderline uncomfortable. "I do," he confessed, "I feel like I've found my niche. I know what it feels like to be unwanted by your parents, so I get to help the kids that come here that get the same treatment from their family."

Sheva nodded lazily, tossing a piece of bacon to Pinto and he caught the meat in his mouth, chewing with loud chomps of his jaw. "Speaking of family, do you believe everything Piper said? I know I kind of asked already, but I'm just a little…unsure of everything right now."

Isaac frowned as he thought, deciding to be completely honest. "I believe that she is our sister and that she really did want to find us. It's just that her file of all the Spencer children is the most unfinished. But I don't know why that'd be. The only people to write the files about us were Oswell, Elliot, or Wesker. She couldn't have touched them and I don't think she did. But why was hers so incomplete?"

"You could probably ask her that and she'd give you an answer," Sheva replied, tossing torn pieces of toast to Pinto, amused that he caught them in his mouth successfully every time.

"That's another thing," Isaac held his forefinger high in the air as if a light bulb had just gone off in his head. "She's so open about everything and tells us her whole life's story. She's not private about anything. I don't like that. She should know better."

"Huh? Why shouldn't she tell us her life's story?" Sheva glanced at him, arching a brow with curiosity.

"You should know as well as I do that secrets are the most valuable things to have in this world, Sheva. Even more valuable than money or family."

"Family? I value you more than secrets, Isaac," Sheva crossed her arms over her chest, her bottom lip curling in a pout. "Are secrets more important to you than me, Isaac? Your own sister?"

With a roll of his eyes, he nudged Sheva's shoulder and held back a laugh. "Alright. You're more important to me than secrets. But still. Piper just told us everything. But everyone has secrets, Shev. What is she hiding if we already know her life's story?"

"Well, Sherlock, I'll be on the lookout for anything fishy," Sheva gave a firm nod.

"Very well, Watson," Isaac nodded back at her. "Now finish your meal because I have a favor to ask of you."

Sheva eyed him, pushing her tray away until Pinto began to pant with the food so close to him. Isaac quickly took the tray before the dog could feast and make a mess, evoking Pinto to whimper as he watched the food retreat. Swinging her feet off the bed, Sheva stood and slipped on the robe that was left for her the night before.

"What is the favor?" she probed, looking him up and down as he strode away towards the bookshelf by the door. He grabbed a wicker basket with a red and white gingham patterned cloth covering the top and walked back to her. She guessed he must have placed it there when she was being squashed by the beast named Pinto.

"Well, you see, Wesker hasn't come up from the lab all night so that leads me to believe he hasn't eaten yet and if I add correctly, it's been quite a long time since he's had a proper meal. So, I would very much appreciate it if you took him his breakfast. I have a lot of work and other guests to bring breakfast to that it would really help if you just took Wesker his meal, yes?"

"Oh, my goodness, Isaac. You're sending me because you're scared to talk to him," Sheva accused him, shaking her head and grabbing the basket from him. She looked inside to feel the wave of warmth hit her face as she counted three freshly baked biscuits and some banana bread. Her mouth salivated just at the scent of the baked goods. A black chrome thermos undoubtedly filled of coffee rested at the end of the small basket.

"That, too. The way he seemed so…not himself kind of makes me sleep with an eye open, you know. And that says a lot with how scary he can be," his eyes went wide for a moment and then he recovered, a fake smile forming on his lips. "So please, dear sister, do me this small favor and give him his breakfast, please."

Tightening the straps of her robe around her tighter, she gave a tired nod and began stepping towards the doors when Isaac gave a content snicker and snort. Sheva looked back at him with knitted brows and a frown, tilting her head to the side and asking him what was so funny.

"You look like red riding hood," he stated as he gestured towards the wicker basket she held and the red robe she wore. "And Wesker is the big bad wolf."

"Thanks for the encouragement," she muttered as she left, her bare feet making the tiniest tap sound on the stone. The chill that went up the pads of her feet from the coldness of the stone made her smile with its familiarity. She took a deep breath and held back a gulp as she turned towards the hallway that led to the lab below and ultimately, led to Wesker.

* * *

"Not everything is about you, Chris!" Alyssa nearly shouted, hitting her fist on the table she and Chris sat at. She rolled her eyes when he slammed his hand harder on the table.

"I'm not saying it is, Alyssa! But Wesker wouldn't have taken Sheva if it weren't for me," he scoffed at the blonde. He stood with an angered sigh, clinching his hands into tight fists as he crossed his arms over his chest and stepped to look out the window and below to the busy streets of New York City. He looked over his shoulder when the door to the room he and Alyssa occupied opened quickly.

"Will you two be quiet?" Old Barry Burton snarled at them. "There's people in this office actually trying to get stuff done unlike you two just shouting at one another. For Christ's sake, just shut up."

"Screw you, Barry. I am getting stuff done. I'm trying to find Wesker while all you guys are doing is typing away on your little computers," Chris complained, the large vein in his neck protruding slightly.

"Oh god, that temper of yours reminds me of when my girls were crying babies and pissed themselves," Barry muttered loud enough for him to hear. "Don't talk to me that way, Chris. I've been on your side for a long time."

Chris rubbed his forehead roughly and turned back to look at the busy streets as Alyssa stood to straighten out her red blazer. She tucked blonde hair behind her ear and looked at Barry apologetically.

"I apologize, Director Burton," she sighed.

"Just call me Barry, Alyssa. How many goddamn times do I have to tell you that?"

Alyssa sighed again as her eyes lowered to the carpeted floor they all stood on. No matter what she did, how much respect she tried to show, she never seemed to get on these people's good sides. It all seemed like unworthy attempts at this point in her mind. Everyone looked at her as the stuck up journalist she used to be and not the strong and honest representative she had grown to be. Everyone just assumed they knew her, but no one did because they never took the time to look past her many layers and let her show her true colors.

"Look, while you two were throwing tantrums, these reports came in and I think it best you both look at them," Barry handed a manila folder to Alyssa. "Oh, and HQ called for you, Alyssa."

"Of course they did," she mumbled as she looked over the files. "Thank you, Barry."

Nodding, Barry turned to leave and waved at Chris when the younger man apologized for his behavior. Chris watched as Alyssa's blue eyes scanned the files in hers hands, her feet leading her to her chair and she took a seat. She began to nibble on her bottom lip when Chris sat in the seat next to her.

"Why is HQ trying to get ahold of you?" he asked, actually more curious about the papers she looked at. But he decided to show some sort of interest to make this time a little less awkward after their shouting match just moments before.

"They want to know what's going on with the Wesker case and Alomar's as well," Alyssa glanced up from the papers to look at him quickly and then back to the files in her hands. "They've been hounding me for information ever since Wesker and Sheva disappeared."

He nodded, tangling his fingers together on the table as he looked around. "How often do they call you?"

Tapping her chin, Alyssa gazed at a potted fern on the shelf by the far wall in thought. "At least three times a day. But I don't really want to think about HQ right now. These files are showing that the kidnapper headed south of the country and possibly to Florida. There was a burnt car at the coastline with destroyed fingerprints. But evidence seems to show that some type of aircraft had departed on the coast, heading southeast."

Chris asked to look at the files and she handed them over. He only had to glance at the picture of the tire marks on the gravel to know what type of aircraft had taken off. "It was a Hawker 800XP aircraft that left those marks."

With a look of disbelief, Alyssa stared at him with her lips in a tight line. He sighed and pointed out to her what kind of tires would make that mark and the speed of the jet by the evidence shown. She obviously didn't believe him, but she kept her mouth shut. He spoke anyway.

"I'm certain, Alyssa. Yeah, maybe it's a bit of a hunch, but my gut tells me it's a Hawker 800XP. I know my aircrafts," he told her confidently.

She shrugged. "Fine. It's a Hawker blah blah. Apart from the aircraft, I think our pilot was too smart. I think he began flying southeast to probably throw us off. Besides Africa, the past few occurrences we've ran into Wesker was in Europe. Germany and England. So I believe the pilot began flying southeast but changed his path to go northeast to Europe."

It was Chris's turn to look at her with weary eyes. "Why wouldn't Wesker go to Africa again? He had pretty good luck there until Sheva and I invaded his party."

"To be fair, Wesker had pretty good luck in a few places if we're talking about outbreaks. But something is telling me that he went to Europe this time. Look, you have your hunch about the aircraft; I have my hunch about the locations. My gut is telling me he went to Europe. Which still isn't much because there are a lot of countries and possible hideouts in Europe," Alyssa claimed with an exhale.

"Alright, so unofficially, Jake took Wesker and Sheva to Europe on a Hawker 800XP," Chris leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. "It's something, I guess."

The room fell silent after Chris's assumption. Alyssa looked over the file one more time before closing the folder and sliding it away, lost in her thoughts when she looked to the man who seemed to be distracted by the panels making up the ceiling above them. She shifted in her seat, feeling the silence to be distressing and stifling. Closing her eyes for a quick second, Alyssa swallowed and bit her pride for a small moment.

"I'm sorry for starting the shouting this time," she half whispered, almost hoping he wouldn't hear her.

Chris sat straight in his seat, eyeing her to see if she had actually apologized. And she had. The snooty Alyssa Ashcroft had uttered an apology that no one had ever had the honor of hearing. It was a moment that deserved celebration of champagne and crab balls. Chris contained his glory though.

"It's all right. We're just two proud people that butt heads that's all. It's gonna happen, I guess. And I'm sorry for you calling you a tight ass," he mumbled the last part quickly.

"I forgive you," she answered, making Chris narrow his brown eyes momentarily. "But I really think Wesker took Miss Alomar in 2009 because of something more than just to get back at you." Chris gave a gravelly groan and leaned back to his previous position in his chair. "Seriously, Chris. Wesker took Jill six years ago because he knew he could do something with her. And because he's sick… But he must have taken Sheva for something much more than just revenge. When you found her four years ago after Wesker had kidnapped her, she was completely fine. Sure, maybe a little unstable mentally, but physically she was as healthy as a horse save for the small wound on her arm caused by a grazed bullet fired by Elliot Spencer. We found nothing in her system that Wesker might have done or something he could have done to hurt her. Why did he take her? And to ask something even more confusing, why did he let her go? And at the Spencer estate and unharmed no less? These are questions that have never been answered, not even by Sheva."

"What are you trying to say, Alyssa?" Chris probed with a warning in his voice as he burned holes into her skull with his gaze.

"Before you assume, no, I don't think Sheva held stuff back. I think maybe after all the trauma to her mind she forgot why Wesker took her and why he let her go. What I'm saying is that there are gaps in her story and in the motive in Wesker's actions. I need these answers, Chris. Aren't you curious about it all?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I don't know what there is to learn."

"Are you scared of what we might find?" she inquired with a sudden soft voice.

He shrugged again. "I don't know what there is to learn," he repeated. "It could be anything and I don't know what to think of it yet."

Alyssa nodded and looked away. She tapped her foot in a nervous habit, but quickly lad a hand on her knee to stop the noise. She bit the inside of her cheek as she leaned forward and offered a small, kind smile. "If it's all right with you and I'll only go through with it if I get your approval, I'd like to look into Miss Alomar's files and try to find what it was that attracted Wesker to kidnap her in the first place."

Chris visibly stiffened, his brows furrowing in uncertainty. He thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No… No, I can't do that. It makes it seem like I don't trust Sheva. That's her privacy and I trust that she's not hiding anything from me."

"I'm not saying she's hiding something from you, Chris," Alyssa replied softly, her eyes trying to stay as kind as possible. Really, she wasn't sure if Alomar was hiding something or not, but she needed to find out. "I'm trying to go about this at the point of view of Wesker, not Sheva. Please. We could find Sheva sooner this way."

Hesitation was most evident on Chris's features as he gaped at his hands on the table. He frowned as he moved his eyes to study Alyssa's face, her cheeks heating up under his scrutiny. She fought her modesty to look away but held his gaze, starting to feel her entire body heat up. She mentally cursed herself for being so weak to temptations when Chris finally sighed and looked away. _Keep it together, Alyssa. You're helping him find his missing fiancée. Just keep it together._ He ran a hand through his hair and nodded.

"Fine. You can look at her files, but only because we want to find her sooner. I trust Sheva and I know she would never lie to me. _Never_. We look into her files trying to find her and catch Wesker, _not_ because you think she's hiding something," he stabbed his forefinger into the wooden table with sternness in his voice.

"It's set then. We'll start a new lead and keep our fingers crossed that we find her and Wesker," Alyssa nodded in agreement. They both called it a day and parted ways as Chris left the BSAA building to go do whatever it was that Chris Redfield did. _Probably going to go lift weights or something,_ Alyssa thought, biting her bottom lip anxiously. She shook her head and strode towards her office to deal with HQ. _Get over yourself, Alyssa._

* * *

**Author's note: **_Alyssa is not only having the hots for Chris, but she might be onto something about Sheva and Wesker! Interesting… You guys have no idea how much I just want to spill all the details to you about everything in this story. I want to tell you what the dreams mean, what's going to happen with Wesker and Sheva, with Chris and Alyssa… Oh, I must contain myself._

_Auktober__: *Nods head in agreement* Sheva __is__ unique. Haha, yes, Wesker is just a scary guy when he has plans conjuring up in his noggin. I like Wesker human. He, however, does not. But him being human means he'll have less control over his…temptations, if you catch my drift. *cough* Sheva *cough*. Thank you! :)  
__agnesreed__: Piper and Flynn are suspicious of you, too. No, I'm kidding. I know, one too many mansions if you ask me, haha.  
__Sheva Redfield__: I'm glad you like Piper. Some are being suspicious about her… I feel bad for Wesker too, but you know in time we'll both take that back and then we'll feel bad for him once again. It's a cycle, I'm tellin' you. Thank you. :)  
__Comix777__: I laughed out loud at your "I hate Piper" statement. What don't you like about her? Just curious.  
__Sasusakui__: Haha, Wesker is going to bark and beat everyone up into submission. It's what he does. Maybe he will experiment on Sheva, maybe he won't… I'm trying to be cryptic. Anyways, thanks. :)_

_I was bad and updated when I haven't written anything since the last update. Meaning I'm catching up with my "back up chapters" and very soon I'll be all out… I need someone to bark at me when I'm lazy doing nothing to write and get stuff done. I love when I go on break at work and I get to read the reviews the newest chapter has gotten. I'm rambling. However, really quickly, though I don't really state what's coming in the next chapter, I just want to say there is a Shesker moment in the next update. I need to get some writing done so I can update and you can read it!_

_-Sarai_


	8. Big Bad Wolf

**Author's note:** _I didn't get as much writing done as I'd have liked to, but since Christmas is only a mere few days away, what better time to update? Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. :)_

* * *

**8. Big Bad Wolf**

* * *

Sheva's hand hovered over the silver handle, breaths having halted at the moment of anxiety. _No wonder Isaac was scared to see Wesker… _she thought to herself before finally rolling her shoulders and swiping her hair behind her. Upon checking her reflection in the shiny metal of the door she stood before, she deemed she was presentable enough to see Albert and grasped the handle with a tighter grip than she meant. Cool air blew at her as she pushed the door open, bright LED lights invading her still groggy sight. It took a moment to adjust, but once she did, she ducked when a glass petri dish flew at the wall next to her, shattering on impact and falling to the floor in shards.

"Just give him the food and run," she whispered for only her ears to hear. "Don't let him insult you."

Taking a large step over the broken glass, Sheva's eyes landed on the tall figure at the back of the lab, his back to her. Even though he was fifteen or more feet away, she could see his back rising and falling with heavy breathes, but knowing Wesker he was probably growling. His muscles were visibly tense as his shoulders hunched close to his neck as he leaned over the work table he stood by. Taking a quick glance at the broken petri dish, Sheva closed the door behind her and slowly stepped towards the man who seemed to be radiating heat from across the room.

"You're not going to throw any more stuff at me, are you?" she asked with a tiny voice, her steps becoming smaller as she grew closer.

"If I were throwing stuff at you," Wesker started with a snarl, "the dish would have hit you."

"Oh, so you're just throwing a tantrum?" Sheva bit her lip as she set the wicker basket on the table next to him, standing with her hands clamped together above her navel. She could almost feel his gritted teeth gnawing at her courage. Before he could meet her gaze, she turned to pull the cloth from the basket and retrieved the thermos. "Isaac asked me if I could bring you your breakfast. Uh, are you hungry?"

Like a temperamental child, Wesker offered no reply but stared at her with narrowed eyes burning her skin as he grabbed the basket and threw it across the room to meet the broken petri dish. Sheva watched as the biscuits rolled around, most still in fine condition save for the banana bread that had broken into pieces like the glass. Sheva's brows knitted as she held the black chrome thermos in her hands, the corner of her lip falling into a frown.

"You know, there are kids in China starving and they would have appreciated that food," Sheva said to him with sarcasm she had no intention of using a moment before. Wesker scoffed and tried grabbing for the thermos in her hands, but she held the metal cylinder to her chest and twisted slightly away from him, looking him up and down.

"Child," he muttered and went back to the plentiful files and photographs he had before him.

"I'm not the one throwing food around," Sheva muttered back. "Do you want the coffee to drink or to paint the walls with? Because if it's the latter, I'm taking it with me for myself."

"Take it then," Wesker slowly looked back at her, making her cower away slightly. "Take it and leave." His voice raised a decibel, his towering figure looming over the girl with intimidating height. Sheva didn't bother looking him in the eye when he repeated for her to leave, nearly hissing at her.

"I think I'll just drink it here," Sheva announced, surprised with her own audacity. She brought a stool from a nearby table and brought it next to Wesker's standing figure. She took a seat, twisted the cap off the thermos and poured herself some coffee into the cap that could be used as a cup. As the hot beverage slid down her throat, she hummed quietly the approval the warmth gave her chilly body. She smacked her lips together and gave them a quick swipe of her tongue before grinning up at Wesker.

With a quirked brow, Wesker could feel the anger rising even more to the surface as she took another sip of java, her little content hums annoying him to the point he was curling his fingers. She brought her legs to cross on the stool, her eyes scanning the files he was previously looking over. He could see that she knew he was glaring at her, but she didn't comment.

She looked like her mother, fortunate for her. Though, when she showed expression, her brows would furrow just like a Spencer. When she'd speak, her nose moved slightly with her lip, reminding him of Elliot to a certain degree. But she got her mother's face, eye, mouth, and nose shape. Her colors were mixed between the races of her biological parents, resulting in skin that was a shade darker than the creamed coffee she drank now, her eyes were not the bright blue of a Spencer, but not the dark brown of her mother's, a light shade of hazel that was borderline the color of honey. She definitely got her mother's figure, not the shape of a rotting apple like Elliot and Oswell had. For such a disagreeable man, Elliot managed to produce a lovely young woman, all thanks to the genes of her mother.

As Sheva reached her hand over, Wesker could see the freckles and marks on her arms as she grabbed a file that interested her, her small hand shuffling through the papers. When he finally took his eyes off her and to the folder she held, Wesker leaned over her and snatched the file away.

"Wait! I wasn't done looking," Sheva pouted, reaching as Wesker took it away and from her grasp.

"Yes, you were," he replied with no emotion in his low voice.

"Why are you looking at the file of my blood tests?" When he didn't respond, Sheva's spine stiffened with uncertainty. "Are you planning something I should know about? Something bad?"

"If I were, Miss Alomar, I wouldn't tell you, now would I? And what you look at as bad, I might see as good. Think you're questions more thoroughly next time," he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, giving a single shake of condescending disapproval at her.

"I'm glad to see sleeping for four years hasn't changed your grumpiness, Bertie," Sheva leaned to rest her head on her knuckles with her elbow supporting her weight on the table. At the nickname, Wesker froze for a moment, his glazed gray eyes looking ahead at steel cabinets as if he was staring into another time. After a moment, he flinched, those glazed eyes changing for anger as his brows furrowed into an angle of ire.

"_What _did you call me?" he growled.

"Bertie. You don't remember? I used to call you that all the time after Kijuju," she sighed when he crumbled a small pile of papers into a ball in his tight fist. "Then I started calling you Albert," she murmured, her eyes lingering on him when his face seemed to soften for the shortest second, but she saw it. "You used to call me Little Bird."

When Sheva lifted her left hand to his hair and was a few inches from combing a stray hair back to his usual perfect 'do, Wesker's hand gripped her wrist, squeezing tight enough for her to shift uncomfortably and sit straight, her eyes turning to a look of discomfort and grief.

"Little Bird? How degrading. And you liked that?" he sneered, his lip curling slightly to show his clenched teeth. "Pathetic."

"Can I have my arm back?" Sheva requested with a firm voice. When Wesker loosened his fingers, she slipped her arm away and rubbed where his hand had been gripping, messaging the skin as blood began to circulate in her arm again. She slid off the stool, her hand quickly swiping any tears away. _Well, Sheva, he insulted you and you let him get to you. Good job._

Not satisfied with how this had gone, Sheva wanted to leave her mark like Wesker had. He always had to have the last word and she wouldn't let him this time. His eyes were on her, she knew, as she locked the cap in place of the thermos and set it aside. When she turned, he was still glaring and she sighed, her heartbeat increasing quickly. As she stepped to her tiptoes, the look on Albert's expression was almost funny. _Almost._

His golden brows knitted when Sheva was quick to grab the collar of his black pullover sweater and brought him closer, causing him to grunt. Before he could really react, Sheva rested her hand on his cheek and pressed her lips to his, her head tilting as Wesker turned to stone. As if he had just looked Medusa in the eye, Wesker made no movement when Sheva's hand left his collar and went to his other cheek, holding him still as if he'd actually move. His eyes remained open as saucers, staring at her closed lids as her lashes fluttered with the movement of her lips. Blood rushed all over his body, gathering to that certain spot bellow his hips. But as his hands began moving to her waist, she pulled away and opened her honey eyes to study him, her lips red and a touch swollen with the heat of the kiss and her brows raised as her eyelids drooped with seduction that suddenly made Wesker boil, the situation hitting him like a rocket to the face—pun intended.

"I liked it when you called me Little Bird," Sheva confessed, her hands falling to her sides. A yelp slipped past her full lips when Wesker's hands gripped her shoulders, his fingers sinking into her flesh. She was sure she whimpered when he blinked and his eyes seemed to suddenly glow grayish blue and a stripe of red in his left eye. His lips formed in a fine line as he held back the growl creeping up his throat.

"Ow! Stop, Wesker!" Sheva pleaded, her feet moving involuntarily backward when he began leading her by the clutch on her shoulders towards the exit of the lab. "Stop! You're hurting me!"

"How dare you even touch me," Wesker let out the growl. "I have the right to be a God and you _kiss_ me?!"

Sheva clawed at his arms, her nails breaking skin that laced back together in moments. A low and dangerous chuckle came from his mouth, pleased to see his strength was back as was his accelerated healing abilities. It was as she cried again for him to stop that the chuckles and sneer vanished. He wasn't getting the usual pleasure he'd get when he'd torture someone. Her shrieks rang in his ears as she clawed at him, her face showing pain but also persistence to stop him. He slowed a tad as he brought her closer to the exiting door. But his feet stopped completely when she cried one more time, really calling for him.

"Stop! You're _hurting_ me! Please, _Albert_, stop," she begged another time, her eyes squeezing shut when his grip loosened slightly. Instantaneously, he released her shoulders but his hands were quick to slip under her arms when she wavered and her knees buckled beneath her. Holding her up, Wesker had the sudden urge to pick her up and set her on the tables, examine her and patch the small wounds he had just inflicted to her skin. That was until she found enough strength to lift her knee and brought it to hit him in his groin—_hard._

It was Wesker's turn to yelp, a little less strained and pained than her, as his own knees gave out and he collapsed to the tiled floor, Sheva falling with him and to his side. Her legs were entangled with his as she groaned and he wheezed, his hands going to cup his crotch as he rolled over to his side and soon to his knees. She sat up quickly, her shoulders throbbing as she watched him hunch over, his breathes deliberate and careful.

"Yeah, you're a God all right," she muttered as she lifted herself up and strode for the door.

Wesker's breathes, soon turning to growls, filled the silent room, his anger heating the space around him. The steel door closed behind Sheva as he gripped the leg of the closest table, using all his strength to throw it at the door she had just walked out of, joining the broken glass and cold biscuits. The crash banged in his ears, momentarily distracting him from the fading pain shooting from his thighs and between. He slowly stood, hunching over with one hand cupping his manhood in case the girl came back to kick him another time.

Taking a seat on the stool Sheva had been on moments before, Wesker saw his faint reflection in the steel tables, his eyes almost seeming to dim. He snatched an impeccably kept metal pallet that was used for mixing purposes that also gave him a clearer reflection. Pulling at the skin bellow his eyes, Wesker watched as his eyes faded from glowing blue to a tame gray, the red changing to a dull maroon, and his pupils returning to perfect circles from what resembled a feline's pupil as his breathes came slower at a calmer rate. His heart stopped hammering, his head still ached slightly, and as he curled his fist, they didn't feel as strong as it did a second ago. His brain racked with confusion at his body's behavior, questions roaming his mind like riddles.

He was broken from his contemplations when a small beeping repeated; alerting Albert that the timer he had set before Sheva had come to give him his breakfast had finished its duration and the wait was over. Stopping the timer, Wesker stepped to another table that a computer and microscope rested on. After clicking some keys on the keyboard, a page of results for a blood test appeared, results of his blood. His brows met in irritation and his teeth gritted behind his lips as his back to normal eyes scanned the lines on the screen.

The results were none to satisfying, on the brink of puzzling. A small strain of the Prototype virus remained in his blood stream, but so miniscule that it only showed on the results that the smallest percentage lingered. This must have been why he wasn't in need of PG67A/W, a Progenitor-based serum to keep the Prototype virus stable and keep his cells from mutating. His body may have been acting fine without the serum or with the small strain of the virus, but to his disgust, his body was acting human. But then there was the mystery of the moments his strength would come back, like they had moments before with Alomar.

Wesker jotted notes onto a blank white sheet of paper, scribbling in neat handwriting his hypothesis of the situation at hand. His theory was that though there was a small amount of the virus in his system, it'd acted accordingly with his cellular makeup and gave him the strength he used to obtain constantly only now when he'd grow angry or rile himself up in some way, his body heating and heart pounding that it worked Prototype in his veins. Then, as he calmed, the virus would go back to being basically dormant and his body would return to the state of humanity.

Wesker guessed this could be fixed if he just increased the levels of the virus by injecting himself with Prototype and return to the consistent dosage of PG67A/W. However, the lab he stood in and the only one he had access to had no supply of the virus or serum, and not all the ingredients to make such chemicals. At the reminder, Wesker grabbed a tray of glass slides meant for the microscope and threw it at the wall. His hands gripped the edge of the steel table, his hands steaming up the metal. As his eyes roamed the lab in bored glances, a light bulb went off in his head when his eyes landed on a certain manila folder.

He snatched the folder, opening it up to see a photo of Sheva Alomar and her information on the first page, the rest of the file pertaining to her own blood test results. The outdated results weren't very helpful to learn what exactly happened to her cells when introduced with a virus. Murphy Bollard must have purposefully skimmed over facts to piss Wesker off. But if Wesker was able to obtain a sample of Alomar's blood, he could start his own research and tests concerning her DNA and cellular make up. And maybe, if he worked his magic, meaning his inhuman intelligence, Wesker might find a way to benefit from her cells and how they bonded with the viruses, creating a serum that could bring his body back to Godly righteousness.

One of those low chuckles worked its way up Wesker's throat, the corner of his mouth smirked as his eyes lingered on the photo of Sheva. He looked to the digital clock on the far wall, counting how long he should wait until he approached Alomar so he could catch her when she wasn't fuming nor did she have a trigger knee to kick him again. Wesker shifted on his feet uncomfortably, trying to forget the pain that had swarmed his entire body minutes ago.

He rubbed the side of his neck, deciding he'd pay Sheva a visit soon enough. He reached to retrieve a cardboard box that held plenty syringes and held one between his forefinger and thumb. A sigh of satisfaction hummed inside his mouth as he smirked. "I hope you're ready for this, _Little Bird_."

* * *

**Author's note:** _In the first story, I kind of made a booboo in facts. All right, I made a lot of booboos, but one that I'm mentioning here is that I wrote that Wesker depended on Uroboros (I don't know what was going through my noggin), but really it was PG67A/W he depended on in the games. So, please excuse the mistake from the first and I'll try to get it right in this one, hehe._

_Sasuskui__: Haha, I've never watched Being Human, but the people I know that do watch it are always so excited for new seasons and episodes. It's hard not to be slightly suspicious of Piper, right? Alyssa better watch out, Chris is a taken man!  
__Comix777__: Aw, I could never tear you apart for hating on my OC. You don't like her, that's alright, haha. Yeah, Piper had definitely hit rock bottom and self-respect was way out of her grasp at the moment. Life gets hard, we all deal with it differently, I suppose. Believe me; I couldn't wait sharing the conversation Sheva and Wesker had and the little…mishap? Thank you. :)  
__agnesreed__: Haha, I don't blame Alyssa for wanting some Chris-meat!  
__Auktober__: Hmm. I can't say if the people in Sheva's dream are Wesker and Jake or Piper and Flynn or even one of each… I must keep some mystery, though I want to spill everything! I just realized that everyone besides Sheva and Chris, in this story, has blue eyes. Ha, adds to the unknown! Haha, that's what I was hoping someone would say to kick my butt in gear to write. It adds to the motivation, so thank you! And hey, crazy people have the most interesting things to say. :)_

_I think this chapter is my favorite yet. Is that conceited of me? Hey ho, I like it and I'm proud, haha. I'll try to write some more Shesker moments soon because I not only love to read those moments, but I love writing them. Please review! :)_

_-Sarai_


	9. Memory Lane

**9. Memory Lane**

* * *

A sad look played on Sheva's features as she practically drug her feet down the hallway towards her bedroom, her hand nursing one of her aching shoulders through her red robe. She gritted her teeth when she pressed too hard on the sensitive, bruised skin, laying her palm flat on the surface to let the warmth comfort the injury. She looked to the wound from the corner of her eye, feeling the smallest bit of relief to see no blood on the silk, just tiny tears where Wesker's nails had scratched through.

Her sigh echoed off the stone. To call her encounter with Albert in the lab a disaster would be an understatement, a nightmare was a better word for the happenstance. She should have taken her own advice and just gotten out of there when she gave him breakfast, but she just had to stay and endure his abusive nature. But nothing could have been more stupid on her part than kissing him. What was she thinking? Did she expect Wesker to remember her magically after? That he'd somehow become his old self or he'd kiss her back? In all honesty, yes, she did expect that or at least hoped for it.

But nothing remotely close to that occurred, rather he acted like she should have anticipated him to and ended up causing her pain emotionally and physically. That was what Albert Wesker did. He hurt people into submission and then some. He didn't stop until he had the right to claim victory; he was ruthless. Chris had told her this when they were on the mission in Kijuju and after, but subsequently all she'd gone through with Wesker and saw what she thought to be a different man than what others knew, she assumed she'd get a different treatment than what others received. She assumed he'd treat her like his equal, like someone he didn't sneer down at and would actually want their presence. But that assumption vanished as fast as a zombie disintegrating into the earth.

"He pushed you away four years ago for a reason, Sheva," she told herself, stilling her movements to stand in front of her bedroom door and to take a deep breath.

As she was about to enter her room, a door no more than ten feet away opened, bringing Sheva's attention to the sound. Flynn, Piper's boyfriend, walked out into the hall, looking around the long corridor until his eyes met Sheva's. So visibly stiff, the man's china blue eyes remained wide as Sheva looked at him, then around to different points in discomfort. She slowly turned towards him as he looked on down the hall as if searching for an escape.

"Flynn, right?" Sheva questioned politely. He looked back to her, his brows in an angle of slight worry and apprehension. He gave a small nod towards her and shifted on his feet. "Are you all right?"

"Uh, yeah, fine," was his quick response as he gave another nod.

Sheva pondered if she should let Flynn go and let him do whatever it is he wanted to do, let him do as he wished as she went to her room to sulk over the decisions she had made of recent past. She could go drown herself in the never ending self-pity and guilt that leveled higher and higher the moments she spent alone. But then again, she could find company to keep her mind over the negative and try to focus on conversation or some communication with someone besides an abusive man studying over files in the labs below. Sheva smiled to Flynn with a small but apparent grin, her hands clasping behind her back as she stepped towards him.

"So… Flynn, where you from?"

As if someone had put an entire splint on the length of his body, Flynn remained still and stiff as his eyes scanned Sheva's approaching figure. He crossed his arms over his chest tightly, almost hugging his body, and tapped the rubber heels of his converse together.

"Originally from Canada, but I've been all over," he told her in a voice of little emotion.

"I've never been to Canada," Sheva tapped her chin. "But I hear it's lovely. I guess that means you're a hockey man, right? I mean, whenever I hear of Canada it's either in the context of maple syrup or hockey," she listed with a giggle. She gestured to Flynn's hat to prove her point, his hand reaching up to feel the "Montreal Canadiens" embroidered logo on his cap. "Do you play hockey?"

"I used to, but I kind of lost interest," he replied, his shoulders relaxing a bit. Sheva took this as a sign that he was becoming more comfortable, even if it was just a slight movement of his shoulders.

"Is your family still living in Canada?" she inquired, leaning against the wall across from the young man. His shoulders went from their semi relaxed positioned back to the tense posture they had been in before, his body so rigid his shoulders were nearly touching his neck.

"I don't have any family…they've all passed," he murmured, eyes gazing to the stone they stood on as his lips formed in a frown. Sheva was quick to apologize but he just cut her off with his own question, so obvious to avoid any sort of pity or spotlight. "Do you have any family?"

"Um," Sheva's brow furrowed, feeling her breaths a little delayed caused by the pressure in the air due to the hostility. "My parents passed away a while ago and I was an only child. I mean, I have uncles and such, but I never talk to them. I have Isaac and now Piper, too, I guess. I have my fiancé back home and his sister."

Sheva's face slowly molded into melancholy as she listed off her family, the half back home not knowing about her family here. Flynn was quick to notice her change in mood, unsure of how to tread the situation. He could not respond, wait for her to say something and then try to get away. Or he could try to be some form of comfort, ask her more and listen. Flynn was a man to do more of the former, but to change things up, he thought, he'd be considerate of the woman before him.

Passed on by the messenger Piper, Flynn knew things about Sheva. Though, always hearing a side of the story from someone else proved to be sometimes an entirely different tale. Flynn didn't know Sheva, he knew Piper's version of Sheva. From the things that had been passed on about the brunette, he knew certain things of Sheva that interested him, but what it was that caught his attention was not necessarily her, but the people she was connected with.

Always being a man to come across awkward and at times uncomfortable, Flynn tried relaxing enough to let his arms fall to his sides, his hands sliding into his pockets. He mimicked her position and leaned into the wall behind him, inwardly taking a deep breath as he thought how to start a conversation. Embarrassingly, it had been awhile since Flynn had a conversation with someone besides Piper.

"What's your fiancé like?" he asked her first. Of all the things he could ask, Flynn chose her family outside the Spencer's. He had had enough of the English blood line, needing to hear of something else.

Sheva looked up to him, her eyes glazed with thought as she searched for words to speak. She kicked her foot into the stone, sighing and letting a small sentimental smile form on her lips naturally. "He's great. I don't think I've met one person who doesn't like him. Well," she paused, Wesker suddenly coming to mind. Wesker hated Chris with a passion and the feeling was mutual. "What I mean is that Chris is easy to like. And his sister is just like him but she has less of a filter on her mouth than he does. But Claire's really funny, whereas her brother thinks he's funny but he's not really. His effort is cute, though," Sheva recalled, thinking of Chris's handsome face and Claire's witty nature. The memory and reminder brought her down to a mood of longing, her demons mocking her that she had put herself in this situation all on her own.

Flynn's face remained neutral. He'd been able to train his emotions when _their_ names were brought up, though it was still a challenge. "They seem nice," he commented plainly.

"They really are. You'd like them, anyone would like them… I know!" she called as her sudden epiphany hit her. Quickly, she stepped forward and grasped Flynn's wrist, pulling him along to her bedroom. Though he was unsure of what she was doing, Flynn followed but still with some hesitancy in his step. "I want to show you something," Sheva told him with a smile. "Isaac gets bored when I show him and I don't know if Piper would be interested."

With a furrowed brow, Flynn stopped next to her when she stood in front of the writing desk in her room. The sun had decided to make an appearance and shined in, sending shadows into the lush forest outside the windows. Pulling out the seat, Sheva gestured for Flynn to sit while she snatched her purse and began to dig around in the bag.

"Ugh, so much junk," she muttered before she pulled out her wallet. "Found it."

Once opening the small clutch, Sheva grabbed small cutout photos from a pocket inside the wallet. She tossed her bag and wallet to the desk, stepping to be beside Flynn and handing him the first photo of a man with dark skin, a gleaming smile, and surrounded by an environment that belonged to the desert.

"This is Josh. He's like a brother to me. I talked to him about, hmm, two weeks ago. He's expecting his first child with his wife and when I heard that, I was so happy because," she shuffled through photos, "Jill's having her baby a month before so then I'll be an aunt to two babies."

Flynn studied the photo of Jill, her brown hair in a ponytail and her squinty blue eyes shielding from the sun in her face. A man with shaggy hair and a smile on his face only meant for Jill next to him held the brunette close. Sheva pointed out this was Carlos Oliveira and the photo was taken a week before they revealed they were expecting. Another photo was added to Flynn's hand, making him tense even after being able to stay stoic at the saying of his name. Fortunate for him, however, he was expecting this and recovered.

"This is Chris, my fiancé," Sheva murmured, her voice going to just above a whisper. "He's a looker, huh? We've been together for a little less than four years now. Chris is probably the sharpest man I've ever seen on a mission, but at home and when we get to relax, he can be a big lug, you know? And super oblivious, too. But oddly enough, that's part of his charm. Although he takes his job more seriously than anyone, he's the most laidback and down to earth guy. And that says a lot if you've ever met Leon Kennedy," Sheva said with a snort, not noticing the slight roll of the shoulders Flynn did.

And lastly, setting a picture of a redheaded woman with bright blue eyes that shined past the photograph into Flynn's hands, Sheva smiled as she pointed to the photo. "And this is Chris's sister, Claire. Their parents passed on some good genes if you ask me. Their parents passed away, too, when they were still very young. But Chris tells me that Claire's almost exactly like their mom, but not nearly as much of a smartass. But that's hard to believe," Sheva chuckled. "She's pretty, huh?"

"Mhm," Flynn hummed, a look of discomfort lacing his face as he handed the photos back and stood. He took a step back as he raised his hand to his heart, rubbing the muscle roughly. His heart pounded in his chest viciously, sounding like an angry clock in his ears. He held back the groan when a sharp pain hit him hard, telling himself to stay strong.

"Are you all right?" Sheva asked, her eyes looking worried. He gave a stiff nod, his palm lying flat over his heart as he took deep breathes. She walked towards him, resting her hand on his back and motioning for him to sit. "Is there something I can get you?"

He was about to tell her he needed Piper, but he swallowed hard and told himself he could get past this episode alone. "I'm fine. Thank you, though."

Sheva urged for him to sit on the bed and she joined him, picking at her nails as she watched him massage his chest. "Can I ask you something?" she inquired with a gentle voice. He nodded tentatively. "I only heard a tiny bit about it, but I was told you have a medical condition. I know it's not my place, but is it something with your heart?"

Shifting with uneasiness, Flynn raised the cap on his head and stroked his buzzed hair, placing the hat back on. Something so personal to talk about with a stranger made him uncertain, putting him in a position of vulnerability; a place he never dealt with well. Sheva seemed innocent enough, or maybe a little ignorant, so he was as honest as he could be with her.

"I have a weak heart," he said. "If I work myself up too much, my heart just gets so excited and the pain hits me. But sometimes, I won't be doing anything and it just strikes me like lightening. It hurts, _a lot_. But I take medication for it and it keeps my heart in check, but sometimes the pain attacks me even right after a dosage of the medicine."

"What do doctors say?" she inquired carefully, doing her best to keep any form of pity from offending him. Trying to be sympathetic in the past with others had put Sheva in situations that she had regretted later.

"They all say the same thing. Ever since the condition started, they'd tell me I would die within a certain timespan. But here I am…alive," he mumbled the last part, relieved to feel the pain gone.

"There was a time in my life when a man watched over me, Emeka," Sheva stated, referring to the truck driver that had saved her after she had ran away from her abusive uncle she'd been sent to after her parents had been killed. He was the man to give her life again, though it was in the confines of guerilla groups. "He had weak lungs, but he always had the strongest spirit. He stayed healthy long enough until about a month before he passed. I had just come back from college in America and when I came to see him, I saw that he had given up. That he had accepted his fate and he was just waiting; waiting for his time to end. All his children had left and had gone off to live their own lives and there was no one to stay strong with him any longer.

"The man I had always known to be so full of life had given up and when he passed, he took that energy and love with him. I feel like maybe if he stayed strong in spirit or realized he didn't need others to stay optimistic, he might have had more time on this earth. I guess I'm telling you this, Flynn, because I don't want to see what happened to Emeka happen to you. If you stay strong and learn that you can fight whatever it is on your own, you can do whatever you want. And you seem to be doing well if doctors are telling you that you will die soon but you're still kicking," she chuckled.

Flynn rubbed the side of his neck, feeling his cheeks redden. "Thanks for the pep talk."

"No problem, anytime. And you have Piper to cheer you on, so now you have two cheerleaders." He gave a lackadaisical nod with little effort. "Speaking of which, how did you and Piper meet?"

"Uh, well…" he looked around the room, trying to find answers on the drapes hanging on the windows. "Piper tells this story better than I do. I'd ask her, really. I'll make it seem like a lame story."

"Oh, all right. Sorry if I'm bombarding you with questions. It can get lonely in this big old place. And I kind of need to distract myself with something. But anyways, thanks for the company," she told him somberly, trying to lay it on thick in hopes he'd talk more.

With an awkward movement of his lips that resembled a smile, Flynn stood and slowly walked towards the door. "I'm not the greatest company, but you're welcome." He looked back at her, stiffening to see her frown as he stepped further away. She was obviously lonely, maybe a little depressed, but too proud to ask for him to stick around. Not that he really would. When she raised her hand in a pathetic wave, his shoulders slouched as he told himself mentally, _don't do it_.

"Hey, I was going to look for Piper and I know she's in the library. She's always in the library. Anyway, I don't know this place… Could you show me where it is?" he asked, cursing himself mentally. _Good going._

Like a spring being set free, Sheva shot up with a large smile. She accepted and strode towards him, pulling him along down the halls of the large estate. She remained positive as she talked about simple things, nothing to make the situation uncomfortable. And for once in very long time, Flynn felt…comfortable? Maybe that was exaggerating, but it was a change. He stopped himself when he chuckled at a comment Sheva made, surprised to hear such a noise escape his body. He had to praise the girl beside him for actually making him laugh, something no one could do for a very long time.

"You seem like a nice guy, Flynn," Sheva told him sincerely. "Piper's lucky."

Stiffening for the millionth time, Flynn frowned at the comment. He wasn't a nice guy. Not after the choices and actions he had committed in the past. For a long while, people had been conducting Flynn's life. He never had the control that he deserved and he still didn't. Part of it was the condition he suffered with and part of it was the fact he was never given chances to give himself better options in choice making. It was a cycle that repeated itself.

He simply shrugged at Sheva's comment, opting to stay silent. As she continued chatting, Flynn knew that he shouldn't grow close to the girl. But that conflicted with the friendly vibe she radiated, making him wish he could throw away his past and actually commit to friendship with anyone, not just her. He wished he didn't have this stupid yet devastating condition and that he had full control over his own choices. However, life had plans for him that he just didn't agree with and he couldn't do a thing about it. He just happened to be one of the many to be dealt a bad set of cards and he had to accept that, no matter how hard that was.

* * *

**Author's note:** _Confession? I really dislike this chapter. I feel like it's really insipid and totally lacking in entertainment. This was more meant as a filler and proper introduction of Flynn (that's where I feel I failed), but I was going back and forth if I should write in his perspective or if it should all be in Sheva's. I feel like I'm making Flynn out to be this complete ass. Pardon my sulking and whining, I'm a cry baby at heart._

_Sasusakui__: Wesker needs to watch himself. Touching Sheva in such a way deducts his "cool points"… I kid. Haha, Isaac would probably cower to Wesker if he'd try standing up to him for Sheva's sake. Keep an eye out for Piper. With a name like that, you never know… :)  
__Auktober__: Bipolar is possibly the perfect description of Wesker at this point. The man is all over the place. Thanks! I think if anyone is going to set Wesker straight, it'll be Miss Sheva. :)  
__agnesreed__: Haha, Wesker was getting excited for a moment and then BAM…kicked in the family jewels. Sheva gets brownie points for that!  
__littlevamp__: Shame on Wesker for wasting food that Isaac put plenty work into… Thank you! I really love writing dialogue; it's almost an escape, haha. Butt-kissing moments: coming soon! :)  
__Comix777__: I can see why that would be a bother. I suppose Wesker reclaimed his Godly righteousness mainly because Sheva was able to catch him off guard and possibly outwit him, so as a reflex he did his "god" routine thing. And because his ego is as big as the Eiffel Tower. Does that make any sense? I imagine Wesker just washing his hair in the shower, soap gets in his eyes and then, "I am a God!"  
__xxSnowixx__: Happy holidays! Thank you so much for the encouragement and I hope to be getting to some real Shesker and Jake and Wesker moments here soon. :)_

_Should I rewrite this chapter? Can you tell I really am negative about it? Maybe I'm just really self-centered, so please forgive me for rambling on about it. What do you think? Rewrite and repost? Or leave it alone and continue on? Let me know, pretty please. Perfectionism; first world problem._

_-Sarai_


	10. An Ordinary Guardian

**10. An Ordinary Guardian**

* * *

A man to have grown up in a country of warfare and surrounded by violence, Jake wasn't someone who laughed often. For the longest time, he looked at laughter as a waste of time, a luxury that only the fortunate ones in life had. If he did laugh at all in his twenty one years of life, it was both when he was a boy and his mother would tell him stories before bedtime or when he grew up and drank varieties of liquors with his fellow mercenaries at raunchy and vulgar jokes.

But now was neither of those times for he was no longer the boy that waited eagerly for night to fall so he could listen to his mother and he no longer led the life of a mercenary. He was at a point when he could laugh—actually _laugh_—at something that didn't either bring him in a state of longing nor drunkenness. Sherry Birkin had the magical gift of making Jake laugh in a status of sobriety and to keep him in the present.

"So, did you listen to the music?" Sherry asked eagerly over the phone, talking into Jake's ear softly after a fit of giggles brought on by some silly joke she had heard on the city bus.

"What music?" he played dumb, hoping to hear that little agitated groan that she made when she got impatient. He laughed freely again when she made the noise he was holding out for.

"You know what music I'm talking about, Jake! Did you like it at all?"

He remained silent, tapping his fingers on the bookshelves of the library, his grey eyes scanning the plentiful books before him that ranged from 18th century romances to gothic horror stories. Sherry called his name again, her voice slightly above a whisper that made him smile.

"Yeah, I liked the music," he finally answered. She sighed at his reply.

"Great! I knew you would. I think you might like this one singer that I just started listening to. He's amazing and super talented. And you know, he's cute so that helps," she mumbled, giggling when she swore she heard Jake scoff.

"Let me guess; tall, dark and handsome, right?"

"Right! Except he has blue eyes," she said. "Though, I think I like grey eyes much more."

Imagining that she was twirling a short strand of blonde hair around her finger, Jake rubbed his growing grin that began to hurt it was so big. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the side of the bookshelf, kicking his shoe into the stone floor and letting his smile show.

"Anyway, his name's Matt Corby* and he's Australian," Sherry told him. "I think you'll like him a little more than the ones I've recommended so far."

"Oh, Australian," Jake grumbled. "I've had enough of Australia lately."

"Huh? I thought you were in Ireland? Did something happen?" she questioned with worry in her voice.

Jake explained that he had been acquainted with an Australian while staying in the Irish mansion. He told her about the woman named Piper and how he had met her the day before, learning that she was part of the Spencer line. Jake did not dislike her nor favored her, he remained neutral. However, he could use a break from the constant chatter the woman produced.

"Hmm," Sherry hummed on the other line. "Piper is her name? Never heard of her. Then again, I never heard of Isaac Tate before all this happened. You sure do get yourself into a lot of trouble, Jake, you know that? Does Wesker know anything about Piper?"

Jake shrugged despite Sherry not being able to see him make such a movement. "I wouldn't know. I haven't talked to the old man since the plane ride over here. He hasn't come up from the lab in the basement."

"The lab?" She sounded as if she gulped. "Be careful around him, Jake. I know he's your father and everything, but I know the things Wesker can do. He worked with my dad and I remember when I'd meet Wesker. He treated me well but I just knew that a man that wore sunglasses indoors must be bad." Jake laughed at that. "I'm serious, Jake! If he knows anything about you having antibodies for the C-Virus, well then, he's going to make plans and with you in mind as the test subject."

"Sher-Bear," he called her by the silly nickname he'd given her that he made her swore she'd tell no one of the affectionate gesture he only showed towards her. "What did I tell you when I left to break Wesker out?"

Sherry sighed. "You told me that you knew what kind of man he was and you were prepared for whatever he had in mind, even if it meant—"

"Trying to kill me," Jake said the last part with her in unison. "Right. Look, Sherry, if my father wants to kill me, he's going to have one hell of a fight for my life. Especially now that…well, you know."

"Now that you have something to fight for?" The way she spoke hinted that she was speaking with a smile on her lips, her inquisitive hum at the end urging for Jake to admit that she was the reason he had something to fight for.

"Yeah, something like that," Jake murmured, chickening out on the romance that Sherry so obviously wanted reciprocated. But Jake wasn't a man to show love and affection as easily as the average guy. It took him a long time to except the vulnerability that love put him in. He knew that he couldn't have gotten the inability to be affectionate from his mother for she was the most adoring woman in Edonia without being called a whore. Jake grumbled at the knowing that he must have gotten the failure to show affection from his father. Man, did he hate realizing things he inherited from his father.

"Jake, I'm just telling you to be careful, all right?" Sherry urged. "I still think this was all a bad idea and that you should just come back here and you can leave all of this behind you. You can move on. You have a place here, Jake. With me."

No matter how much he wanted to argue, Jake sighed at the caring nature Sherry showed towards him. She was the first to make him actually stop and stare, not the usual way he had lived all his life in a fast paced existence. He saw and heard things he may not have before he met Sherry, and though it was a beginning into a life of unlimited possibilities and timeless beauty, it scared him immensely.

"I just need time, Sherry," he debated. "I need to know my father and I need to know why my mother held onto him after all he had done to her. My mother loved him as much as she loved me and I want to know the man that she was so obsessed with. You understand, don't you? It's something I need to do for me."

Nothing was heard except for the steady breaths Sherry exhaled. "I understand. I just…I don't think you'll like what you find in Wesker."

"I already don't," he mumbled. "Look, I'll be careful if you be careful, okay? I'm putting you in risk with all this and I wish you weren't. But you are, so stay safe for me."

"I will. I promise," she simply stated.

Not much was said after that but a small exchange of words. A few minutes passed when Jake finally closed the flip phone shut, ending the call with Sherry. He had maybe a good thirty minutes left on the disposable phone and he wanted to save those minutes to call Sherry when he really needed to. If he could, he'd talk to her all day, every day. But he had to be careful not to get her into any more trouble than he'd already put her in. He needed to keep her safe so that when this was all over, he had someone to go back to.

"Sher-Bear?"

Jake quickly turned around, holding the small phone in his fist, ready to throw it at whoever was eavesdropping. He was surprised to see Sheva standing by the black baby grand piano, her face laced with query as she took a seat on the piano bench.

"How long were you listening?" Jake hissed the question, angry that someone had caught his attempts of affection and with Sherry no less. He couldn't let anyone know he was in contact with her.

"Not too long," she admitted shyly. "I just heard bits but I was looking at the books too, so I was distracted from what you were saying."

"If you tell anyone about Sherry—"

"I won't tell anyone, okay?" Sheva placed a hand over her heart and nodded towards him. "You have my word, I won't tell a soul that you are talking to Sherry. I've never met her, but Claire always talks highly of her and I don't want any harm or danger on someone Claire cares about."

Jake's shoulders relaxed from the position he hadn't realized they were in and nodded in compliance. He still didn't trust Sheva entirely, but he learned day by day that her word was true. Once he looked back at Sheva, he quirked a brow to see her lay her fingers gently on the ivory keys of the piano, her eyes watching her hands carefully as they remained still. A smirk tugged at his lips as he walked to the piano, sitting on the bench beside her and nudged with his shoulder for her to scoot over.

"I was here first," Sheva complained, pressing her hands on the keys, causing a sound of harsh notes to play.

Jake sighed with annoyance and remained seated. He said not a word as he turned his attention to the ivory, his hands moving gracefully over the keys. The pace of the piece he played picked up, the tune becoming fast and his hands flying. He glanced at Sheva long enough for her to catch on; he was leaving the right side of the keys free for her to join, assuming she knew how to play. And she did. She joined in, her junction leading Jake to slow the pace and the piece becoming something of a charming ballad. This nearly went on for five minutes, the two challenging one another until the other grew tired. But when the so obviously old piano ringed in an out of tune note, Sheva was forced to stop due to the off-putting sound. Jake laughed triumphantly, feeling as if he could play for days without growing tired.

"My mother was a piano teacher," he explained when Sheva asked where he'd learned to play like that. "She had played all her life and when she was about twenty three, she came to America to pursue a life in music. Well, that didn't work out how she wanted and she went on to teach. She had taught me from an early age."

Sheva listened, slightly unsettled to hear of Jake's mother, the other woman in Wesker's life before her. When she asked Jake how his mother met Wesker, Jake shrugged, not entirely sure of the story himself.

"I think they met at a concert that she was performing in. You know, Wesker seems like the hoity-toity type to go to those instrumental concerts and I guess that's how they met. At least that's what my mom told me. God, she was in love with him…" he mumbled in disappointment. "I mean, I guess I shouldn't hate him too much because I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him. It's just… I don't know."

Sheva leaned forward to get a glimpse of his face, to read his expression so maybe he didn't have to verbally say his emotions like she knew he'd rather not. He remained stoic as he met her eyes, gray meeting hazel in a gaze of inquiry and hesitance. Sheva wanted to look away, his eyes looking a little similar to Wesker's, his orbs burning into hers as if he could read her thoughts and deepest darkest secrets.

"You deserve better, you know."

As if a bucket of ice cold water had spilled over her body, freezing her to the bone, Sheva's brow furrowed into a line of confusion and offense. Before she could speak, he did so first, talking with stern and matter-of-fact voice, reminding her a little of his father.

"Just like my mother. She deserved better than him and you do, too. I don't know what's between the two of you, but if you ask me, you should ditch him before he ruins you like he ruined my mother. He's a fucking parasite and she didn't deserve that. I hate that I'm related to him, but it gives me the right to say what scum he is. A word of advice on top of what I've already told you: run before he makes himself a monster on the outside to match the inside and comes killing you as some mutated freak."

His voice was acid, searing into her brain like the Snake to Eve. But it was Jake who claimed Wesker was the snake, persuading her to believe Wesker would feed her the forbidden fruit and curse her to the life of agony that he claimed his mother had lived. But these words, these speeches, were familiar. Chants and mantras spoken by many that she had crossed paths with that became repetitive after only so long of hearing it.

Chris preached the evil Wesker was, cursed his existence and made a promise he'd avenge those Wesker had killed in his wake. Jill supported the act, her own past with the ex-captain of S.T.A.R.S. impelling her to fight with the side of good, pushing out the bad that everyone claimed Wesker led. Claire cried for the ones that she lost to the evilness that was Wesker, the loved ones she would never have the opportunity to see again in this life. It was Wesker that caused all this pain on those who tried to stop him or simply encountered him. Wesker was the snake in the garden, slithering his tongue into songs of persuasion until he sunk his teeth into your flesh and spread his venom, destroying what he saw fit.

But Sheva saw a different man that everyone hated with a passion. In her eyes, Wesker was a man with a heart hidden behind the many layers built of iron. It was a selfish heart most of the time, but she had the opportunity to see the good that Wesker had the ability to do on rare occasions. First, he was a mad genius. Second, he was the snake that brought distraught onto others. And third, he was a man that thought too much and cared for so few things, but treasured to the fullest.

And here was his son, stating his disapproval in such an affair that Sheva found herself in, sometimes wondering if she was the only person in this affair for Wesker seemed to have cared very little for her in their past few confronts. Jake was honest, something she respected, and told her that she could do better. And Sheva was aware she could. Wesker wasn't necessarily the most ideal man to bring home to mother and father and he certainly wasn't someone Sheva imagined herself tying the knot with.

But she could see herself with him. Maybe tending to the garden while he watched over her like his protective and territorial self always did. He'd be researching in the library with her cuddled up beside him with her own romance novel in hand. Or waking up to the morning sun as it shined on their skin, lying in bed with not a care in the world as they kissed each good morning. It was the simple things that Sheva saw herself doing with him.

It was hard to have plenty speaking of negativity that involved Wesker, though she knew most were justifiable. When you loved someone that everyone hated, it was a challenge that she had never thought she'd find herself with.

After Jake's lecture, Sheva found herself unfit for conversation, excusing herself as she rose from the piano bench and sulked to the door into the never ending halls inside the Irish estate. Her fingertips traced along the stone walls as she walked to her room, feeling as if she hadn't slept in a hundred days.

Yes, everyone hated Wesker and part of her did too. The part that wondered why she had to be the one susceptible to his affections and attractions, making her weak in the knees and head over heels in love with the lunatic. Look what happened to Excella Gionne. Sheva had no ambition of becoming a steaming pile of black ooze, but she still followed Wesker's every move like Excella had. But if there was one thing Sheva had that the silicone Italian didn't, it was courage to stand up to Wesker. The moments were far and few in between, but Sheva had the audacity to stand up to Wesker and tell him how things worked. Those were the moments when she didn't feel guilty to be in love with him, as if she had actual control over her feelings and emotions. As if she had control over him.

Sheva rolled her eyes at the thought of controlling Wesker, a humorous thought at best, as she made it to her bedroom, pushing the door open as it squeaked with aged hinges. The room felt thick in pressure but cold in temperature, giving an odd feeling to Sheva's senses. Rolling her shoulders and stretching her arms, she moved to the foot of her bed next to the small bench. A sigh slipped passed her lips as her eyes roamed the room, looking for something new to study amongst the drab décor. She thought to herself that if she had the time, or rather the energy and determination, she'd do something with this poor, old, sad room and try to at least make it semi lively; a challenge greater than loving Wesker in the midst of haters.

As Sheva thought of a color scheme she'd give the room, she turned and gasped to see a visitor she had no idea had already been in the room before she arrived. Her heart thumped in her ears, goosebumps rose on her skin and her eyes opened wide as she took in the image of Wesker leaning against the wardrobe with a smirk on his lips and those famous glasses he used to wear full time perched on the bridge of his nose.

Sheva was sure the gulp she swallowed echoed in the room, making Wesker chuckle under his breath as she kept from whimpering. _So much for trying to control my feelings and emotions._ He pushed off the wardrobe, his arms crossing over his chest as his eyes looked over Sheva's near trembling figure.

Something was different, she knew. She had a bad feeling more than any about this particular encounter with the man she involuntarily loved. Taking a step back, the back of her knees hit the bench at the end of her bed and she sat down without thought, watching as Wesker circled around her as he kept his eyes on her.

"What do you want?" she managed to ask, her voice slightly shaky.

She wanted to comment on his glasses, but found no courage to do so. He was clad in black, a long sleeve V-neck shirt, perfectly tailored slacks, and shiny dress shoes that gleamed with the poor sunshine. He stopped circling, halting to stand right in front of the tall windows to look down at her, the light behind him creating an eerie silhouette. What was so eerie about it was that it matched perfectly to the one in Sheva's nightmares.

"Whatever you want, I won't do it."

He groaned, turning his head to look back at the window at the forest beyond. When he turned back, Sheva could see the smirk missing, gone from his face as if it was never there. His arms fell to his sides, fists clenching as he took a step forward.

"All I require is a small favor," he purred, his pearly teeth showing when he took a moment to calm himself and forced a smile. Strange enough, Sheva found pride in the fact she was able to anger him so easily. "Something small but would mean so much. You see, it is something you can aid me with. If you do me this favor, you'd be helping mankind more than any human being on the planet ever has. So, what do you say, _Little Bird_?"

**Author's note:** _Oh, Wesker, old sport. What do you have up your sleeve? A little bit of ass kissing perhaps? That bit when Wesker is referred as the "snake" (No reference to Alyssa the cobra, haha.) and shown in such a bad light is what I imagine how Sheva sees others speak of Wesker. I'd think all they'd have to say is mostly negative, contradicting with Sheva's vision, so it paints an ugly picture in Sheva's mind. I hope that makes sense._

_Sheva Redfield__: You're a sweetheart, thank you. I'm just super judgmental of my writing and I make that obvious. Don't worry about leaving reviews, I understand completely. Though, I appreciate whatever you can say. Oh, Chris. He better not be sulking and actually trying to find Sheva!  
__agnesreed__: You made me feel a lot better about the last update. Thank you! We must stay suspicious of Flynn. We must…!  
__Comix777__: I was waiting to see who was going to comment on that part where Sheva wants to show Flynn something. And actually, I'm not terribly surprised it was you. That's not an insult, but just a silly observation. I don't know if Sheva's lonely, but she doesn't want to be alone. I hope that difference makes as much sense as I think it does. It's supposed to be enigmatic, Comix! It'll all make sense in future chapters, I swear. And then you'll be saying aloud, "Aha!" :)  
__Lollipop Lolli__: Thank you, Anastasia, for the encouragement. It's ok to feel bad for Flynn and be suspicious of him at the same time, that's how I want it to be, haha. Can I tease you for a moment? There's a Shesker moment in the next chapter. Happy New Year. :)_

_Next chapter is longer for you guys as a treat because the next update is sort of sentimental to me. At least I feel like it's a longer chapter. On a side note, my brother got me the Resident Evil Anthology for Christmas and I've just started playing RE1. That voice acting… It's…indescribable! Of course I played 2 right when I got it and I don't think I ever wanted to be a kid again more in my life!_

_-Sarai_

_*Matt Corby is an Australian singer-songwriter and musician that you all should check out if you like indie music!_


	11. A Hungry Wolf

**11. A Hungry Wolf**

* * *

He was using it as a weapon. A really smart, effective, condescending weapon.

Wesker had all the knowledge in the world what the nickname meant to Sheva. She'd practically showed him the big gaping hole in her heart of how vulnerable she was to the affectionate pet name. But in his case, it wasn't in the slightest affectionate. He wanted something, he stated it first thing, but he was going to go for her weakest point to get what it was that he wanted. With how susceptible she was at the moment to him, Sheva feared he'd get whatever it was he came for.

Her fingers gripped the pillow that she had snatched on the bench she sat on. She nearly tore holes into the plush fabric with how anxious she was to have Wesker standing before her, his smirk hiding his true intentions. He cocked his head to the side, his brows showing just above his dark glasses as they rose and he nodded with encouragement. She realized it was her turn to speak.

"What's it going to cost me?" she instantly questioned. _Most likely pain,_ she thought. _Lots of pain._

This is when he chuckled, that intimidating chortle of a laugh tickling her nerves like heated air on cold skin. Goosebumps rose to high peaks on her arms as he put a hand on his chest, ending his little fit of laughter as the smirk that became to look more and more natural remained on his structured face. He stared at her, her eyes gaping at the black void of his shades. It was now more than ever that she realized why he kept those stupid glasses. It gave him the best advantage in the situation; devoid of all things emotion.

Her nerves tingled over her body, mixing with anger that he wasn't answering her question. So this is how he wanted to play. To string her tight until she submitted to his demands, to annoy her so much she'd voluntarily do what it was he wanted. But she had a tolerance for this man. If she didn't, then she wouldn't have been in the situation she was now or even alive. She could tolerate his little mind games until he was the one that snapped, and knowing Wesker and his short fuse, that could happen any minute.

"Did Christ fall to his knees and ask God what his fate was going to cost him?" the tall blond quizzed profoundly. "Was Madame Curie in the lab asking herself what her research was going to cost her? Does a soldier going to war ask his captain what it's all going to cost him?"

"Are you saying I'm going to be crucified, discover the next big thing in science, and fight a war?" she asked him, sarcasm dripping from her voice. To her surprise, he chuckled at her comment. She had assumed he'd fume and throw something that resembled a temper tantrum.

"I'm saying you have the chance to do something big and for you not to question it."

Shifting uncomfortably on the bench, she bowed her head to hide her expression. Wesker was freaking her out and she was confused beyond relief. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she had an idea what he wanted. Something he wanted when he captured her four years ago and something she happened to be born with. She didn't want to say it though. She wanted to hear it from his lips. To hear him beg her for it and she could claim superiority over the man once and for all. Not that superiority was particularly important to Sheva, but to put Wesker in his place was something she'd been trying to accomplish for way too long now.

She looked back up to him, one brow raising as she crossed her legs and beat her fingertips in rhythm on her knee. With a nod, she gave him a haughty smile.

"So, come out with Bertie. What do you want?"

His lip twitched, whether at the nickname or at the bossiness she showed, she wasn't sure. He was trying so hard to keep his irritation from showing that it made her want to explode in laughter. She watched as he held his breath and he grabbed for something in his back pocket, revealing a small black hard shell case with a shiny silver zipper. Sheva's teeth gritted as he unzipped it, opening it to show one perfect unused syringe.

"It's simple really," he started calmly as he freed the syringe of its velcro strap. "Just one sample of your blood and we'll be done with this."

_No way Jose_, was Sheva's first thought. Though she was expecting this, the cool shiver that went up her spine was not relieved with this knowledge. This was all déjà vu. She did this for him four years ago and couldn't do it again. Not with how differently he was acting and just how much more callous he had been towards her ever since he'd awoken.

"That's not happening," she told him sternly. "That doctor took samples of my blood and then my father got involved. You're not taking any blood from me, Bertie."

"Dr. Bollard didn't know what he was doing. I, however, do." He took a step towards her as he tossed the small case onto the bed while he raised the syringe to eye level and studied the needle trapped inside the plastic cap. "And Elliot Spencer is dead. No one will be in on this but me. So be a good girl and do as I say."

"You're not going to touch me. I'll kick you again and this time I'll make sure you can't have any more kids," she warned, realizing how pathetic that threat sounded.

With a groan, Wesker rolled his shoulders and took another step towards her, this time not stopping to hear her response. "You could have made this easy."

Sheva stood with a jolt, hoping to side step his approaching figure and run for the exit. But he was too quick, too prepared for her next move. Like a slithering snake, his arm was quick to grab hers, his grip tight around her bicep. She resisted with persistence, tugging her body back to release his grasp.

"Let go of me," she hissed, her hand catching his wrist to pry his clutch away. "You're going to regret it if you don't."

"And what are you going to do? Tattle to mommy and daddy? Oh, right, they're all dead. And you're all alone," he spoke with venom. "Just give me the bloody sample."

All anger and fight in her died for a moment. All the courage and strength seemed to disappear like a flame in the wind as his words sunk it. She went blank for a moment, her eyes staring into the black abyss of Wesker's shades. His words stung and her eyes watered, reminding her of the third date she had with Chris and he took her to a sushi bar in the city. She had tried Hamachi with too much wasabi, her eyes watered and her tongue burned of dry heat that made her entire face scorch. Wesker's cruel words felt just the way the physical pain did back then on that date with Chris. Wesker could have just ripped her heart out, that would have been just as effective as saying what he did.

But he was wrong. She wasn't alone. She had Chris, Isaac, and Claire. She had Josh and Jill. She had family and she wasn't alone. Wesker, however, was. Jake couldn't want to not be his son any more than he already did. Sheva had tried to be there for him but at these instants when he acted the way he did and said the things he did, she couldn't take it. It was those moments she knew why Wesker was alone and at those moments why he deserved to be alone.

Suddenly, all the anger and fight rose inside her like a building fire, burning in her veins as she saw her reflection in his glasses mirror her face turning into a sneer. He was a prick, Sheva thought, and he needed his ass kicked until _he_ was the one tattling to mommy and daddy. And those stupid glasses. She couldn't take those things anymore. She just wanted…

With a quick spin of her toes, she brought her elbow up as she turned quickly and smashed her elbow into those stupid sunglasses. Relief similar to popping all the joints in your back filled her at the sound of his shades breaking and falling to the floor.

Not even taking the time to see if she had severely injured him with the attack, she crouched and swept her leg under his, kicking his feet and causing him to fall to the floor in a heap of surprise. She was quick to crawl on top of him, her hips on his with her feet locked on his thighs to keep him from moving. Her hands slammed on his shoulders and pushed him into the stone floor with outrage. When she raised her clenched fist above her head, she took the quickest second to look at his face to find a few shards of the glasses from his shades had caught on his skin, small pieces dug into his brow and the delicate skin under his eyes. Small blood spots and drips were mostly on his forehead, creasing into the lines of his angry face. Not wasting another second, she started hitting his chest with her fists, resembling an angry monkey on an abusive zookeeper.

"You're such an asshole!" she shouted in his face, hitting a fist on his chest after each sentence. "I shouldn't have helped Jake break you out! I should have let you two get caught! I don't have to put up with your bullshit and sure as hell don't have to endure your abuse. I have people who care about me, Wesker. You don't. Everyone wants you dead, except for me. But God! You treat me like crap and then I want to kill you myself! You're an asshole and a prick and a snot nose, know-it-all, son of a bitch!"

It didn't surprise her when suddenly she was the one on the ground and he was holding her down. What did surprise was that she was able to get all of that out without a fist to the face. And still, he didn't bother to hit her, but she was just as cautious to see him reach for the syringe that had fallen to the floor when he did. Her hand reached out, trying to get the needle away from him before he punctured her skin. They fought over the syringe as she tried to weasel out from underneath him. His knees were on her hips, keeping her locked to the floor as she tried sitting up to get the needle. She began to scratch at his skin with a vengeance when he finally growled and yelled so loud she felt all her bones turn to noodles and she fell to the floor in exhaustion, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Why didn't I kill you those years ago? Why did I put up with you? _How_ did I put up with you?!" he shouted back at her. Biting the cap that protected the needle with his pearly teeth, he pulled the syringe free and held it in his hand to plunge in her arm. He stopped his movements when she replied to his initially rhetorical questions, making him halt with the emotion in her voice and the meaning of her words.

"Because you loved me. Or at least I thought you did. But no. You loved that stupid Kayla Muller and not me," she pouted and whined like a child that dropped their ice cream in the sandbox.

He froze with the impact of her words, feeling shaken with the miserableness hidden within every syllable. Her jealousy didn't sit well within his conscious, making him want to down a bottle of whiskey if alcohol still had any effect on his body. Then again, with his human like behavior and health lately, maybe the liquor could do something for all the annoyance surrounding him. Sheva's jealously reminded him of…Excella. Of all the things he had trouble remembering, he could remember her. He shivered at the reminder of the voluptuous Italian.

"You're jealousy is immature and unwanted," he mumbled as he went to grab her arm. She was faster than him in that second, her hand moving faster than his and her fist meeting his cheekbone. His head whipped to the side, feeling a trickle of blood slip down his cheek. A flurry of her palms began hitting his chest as she grunted with what sounded like little sobs.

Her hitting seemed to getting harder and rougher as she began to actually cry. An upside down smile played on her sad face as she hit him with determination, fighting tears that wanted to come down in a waterfall.

"I hate you!" she screeched. She slapped him and went back to pounding on his chest. Having enough of her tantrum, Wesker tried grabbing her arms and to finally get that sample he came for, but she shoved him and slapped him again, screaming again, "I hate you!"

The more she said those words of detestation, the faster his blood pumped and his skin heated. She punched his side again, the diamond on her engagement ring pricking his ribs. He could almost feel his skin heal of the small injuries and his eyes glow with anger at the reminder of her engagement to the imbecile, Redfield. When she punched him again, he could almost hear the diamond mocking him, leaving him unsettled that something as stupid as the engagement she had gotten herself into should mock him in such a way it did and how severely.

"Get off me!" she cried below him. "I want to go home. I want forget about you and everything in this godforsaken place. You forgot about me so I can forget you. Get off of me!"

In her bustle of words and the anger inside him, he blamed his primal impulses for doing what he did next. He grabbed the collar of her cotton tee shirt and pulled her up, throwing the syringe to the side and slipping his other hand into her hair. His lips smashed onto hers with a harsh kiss, her moan of surprise had him tangling his other hand into her hair as he pushed into her mouth with his tongue and danced with her own. He glided his legs off her hips and between her legs, pulling her up to sit on his lap while Sheva was still in a blissful surprise. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands explored her body with a mind with their own, his hand sneaking under her shirt to lay his palm flat on her back, sending shivers up her spine with tingling goodness.

He was persistent with her lips, nibbling them and kissing her almost violently. His lips and hands were going too fast for her to keep up. One minute he was here and then there, his lips traveling to her neck where he gave her little love bites. She couldn't be happier that he had kissed her, but he was like a hungry wolf that had gotten its first prey in years. This all felt good and unbelievable; just to have his body against hers again was ecstasy enough. But he was going too fast, too hungry for her appetite. She wanted him slowly and lovingly, not like some frenzied virgin about to get his first lay. And Wesker was no virgin, but Sheva couldn't handle him this urgent.

"Wesker, slow down," she gasped, his hand trailing up the side of her torso higher and higher to her chest. "Albert, seriously. Slow down. Please." His hand pressed against her breast and she nearly lost it, but she had to slow him down. "Albert!"

His excited body was deaf to her pleads. Her warm skin was like a cool drink of water after walking in the desert for days, her moans were like a symphony of beautiful music, and her lips were softer than soft and tasted sweetly like candy. The fabric covering her body was annoying him, keeping him from feeling her like he wanted. Without thinking, he grabbed the collar of her shirt and tore, revealing a lacy black bra. He growled possessively at the sight.

He was about to press his face into the plushness that was her bosom until a hand slapped him hard on the cheek, his ears ringing and hearing the faint sound of someone yelling. He blinked once, twice, and saw Sheva cover her chest with her hands and the torn shirt, crawling off him with a pissed off look on her face.

"I told you to slow down! Sheesh," she swept her messy hair away and focused on her heartbeat. She bunched the fabric of her torn shirt and covered her chest, looking at him for an explanation to find he looked more confused than he ever had. Realization spread across his face, coming to his senses with what he'd just done, let alone initiated. In a flash, he stood and straightened himself out, glancing at her still sitting on the floor. He snatched a small blanket at the end of her bed and gave it to her without meeting her eyes as he took deep breathes.

"Thanks," Sheva murmured, pulling the blanket to her chest and covering herself even more. She closed her eyes, rubbed her temples and sighed. When she opened her eyes, he was gone, the door left open in his wake. She sat silently for a small while, replaying the whole situation in her mind. She couldn't keep herself from grinning at the thought that he'd kissed her. She giggled at the thought, covering her face with her hands. A frown spread across her features when she felt the silver band of her ring press into her eyelid.

Like a virus, guilt hit her with a vengeance, plaguing her mind with a purpose. She knew she had been unfaithful for some time now, considering she not only had kissed Wesker a few days ago but also she'd held a lot of secrets about herself from Chris. And she was adding more onto the heap of disloyalty every day. What if he found her? What if he found out her secrets like being a Spencer or loving Wesker? She didn't love Wesker more than him. Did she?

Sheva grumbled with annoyance at herself, not sure who she loved more. Couldn't she love them equally? They were very opposite people, but they still held just as much space in her heart as the other. But didn't she love them differently? Wesker was an unforbidden love, a dangerous one. And Chris was the safe one, the love she could rely on and could know was true. But did that mean she loved Chris more than Wesker or vice versa?

She covered her head with the blanket, reveling in how she could get herself in such situations and such self-destructive mindsets. She had a knack in self-destruction, she admitted. She also had knack for really screwing herself over, too.

She knew Chris was out there looking for her. He had been when Wesker kidnapped her four years ago and most likely now that she had disappeared. But she feared that he'd find much more than just her hideout. Sheva was afraid he'd finally learn why Wesker took her in the first place, why she went with Jake, and why she kept it all from him. And Sheva knew he wouldn't like what he discovered.

* * *

With a hard slam of the phone on the hook, Alyssa sighed with a heavy breath, her hands shaking as they went to comb her hair smooth. HQ had given her yet another scolding that Sheva Alomar or Albert Wesker had yet to be found. They'd lectured her with their high titles and big words, basically threatening her if she did not make progress soon, there'd be repercussions. It was no surprise that they'd be all over her, demanding answers and tossing her deadlines.

Alyssa had always been good about getting things done quick and clean. After years in journalism, she'd applied for the anti-bioterrorist company and was hired as an investigator, working up until she became the representative of the North American branch. It was a tough job, but years in the field as a journalist and writer had prepared her for the vicious world of politics and bio organic weapons.

She thought that Raccoon City was what she would be known for, but now that she was working on a case that involved _the_ Albert Wesker—Raccoon City was a fraction of notoriety compared to the ex-Umbrella employee.

For the last few days, Chris had been on a break from all of the research. Alyssa had personally told him to take a few days after he'd been a little out of it. He obviously wasn't sleeping and as more days passed that neither missing persons had been found, the more anxious and unstable he seemed to be. But knowing the reputation that was almost as big as Chris was physically, he'd get back on his feet after a small while and be good as new. At least, that's just what Alyssa was hoping.

She was running out of excuses to tell HQ and leads to find Alomar. Her file revealed nothing. Alyssa had looked all through Sheva's history, from childbirth to her life today, and nothing came up that raised Alyssa's curiosity or answered any of her questions. What was it exactly that attracted Wesker to kidnapping her in the first place?

There were a few options left. She could interview Josh Stone—interrogate the man closest to Sheva before the Kijuju incident until she found something helpful. But an interview with the BSAA Captain had already been conducted and it was a very major doubt that he'd be able to tell her anything new that could help.

She could go with the idea that Wesker took Sheva purely because it would hurt Chris. But that possibility did not sit well with Alyssa. Fine, Wesker wanted revenge so he took Sheva, but where would he and Sheva be? Why had he taken Sheva to the Spencer estate those four years ago? Why did Wesker let her go? No, that possibility was not an option. Alyssa knew that it was something much more than just hatred for Chris that Wesker took Sheva. There just had to be some tangible reason that she was missing.

And lastly, she could just wait to hear back from the investigation team that was researching in Australia. There were four Spencer estates in total on this planet. The one the blew up in the Midwest in 1998, one that Elliot Spencer had been hiding out in for many years and where they found Sheva Alomar and Albert Wesker the first time. There was the one in Germany where Wesker had been spotted nearly two years before the Kijuju incident, and the last one that had yet to be investigated until now in Australia. Alyssa wasn't positive as to why the Australian mansion hadn't been searched, but the BSAA was sometimes slow to get around to these types of things. That much Alyssa knew.

The Spencer mansion was being investigated by a team of the BSAA sent by Alyssa herself. She hadn't heard word yet of how the search was going, but she wasn't expecting much. The English mansion hadn't been much to learn from. It appeared that Wesker had burned anything of importance before he was arrested. The German mansion was just a big ball of nothing helpful. Everything there was outdated and only held information that they already knew. The one in the Midwest was blown up; nothing could be recovered from that. So Alyssa's last hope was the estate in Australia, the forgotten home of the Spencer's.

It was any day now that she would be getting the results and reports of the investigation, and though her hopes were low, Alyssa was still holding out that maybe—just maybe—they might come up with something. Something to put them on the right direction in finding Alomar and Wesker. Something to get HQ off her back.

But until then, she had to be patient. She needed Chris to get it together so that if there was something in those results that proved to be helpful, he could help her get closer and closer to finding their missing persons.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _I hope Sheva's outburst is justifiable. I think it was overdue, really. And Alyssa will have some major results on those reports. The Australian mansion is where Piper was, so maybe this will lead us to learning Piper's true intentions. Oh, the mystery… Though, I think we all know what Piper's up to… ;)_

_Sasusakui: Wesker is starting to scare me too. Cut it out, Bertie. Wesker is totally that swaying cobra! Dude is scary as eff. Chris is a grown man. Sheva is our leading lady so we must pay attention to her. :)_  
_Auktober: Thank you for saying so about the Flynn chapter. I was just not so happy with it, but that's gonna happen. I can't wait to actually dig into Flynn's character more and reveal his true colors. Bingo! You were right; Wesker wanted the bloody goodness. I kid. :) Oh, and I understand about burning out. You're always so good about leaving reviews that I don't know how you do it! Thank you. :)_  
_littlevamp: Butt-kissing is what Wesker is good at. :) Or maybe that's butt-kicking… Sheva needs to put him in time-out, haha. Thank you! :)_  
_Ultimolu: I literary laughed out loud at your review! Aim for the balls, Sheva! She's totally got that down, haha. :)_  
_Pandora's Eye: Thank you! Wesker's gonna have to deal with these feelings for Sheva and come to terms that he likes to call her Little Bird. :)_  
_Comix777: Jake and Sherry, k-i-s-s-i-n-g… I can totally see Wesker strutting down the street ignoring his haters. Like a true badass. He'd probably be blowing them all kisses. :)_  
_Sheva Redfield: It's ok, you don't need to apologize! You weren't late in slightest and I appreciate you taking the time to write a review. I thought you'd like the Jake and Sherry affection. :) D'aw, poor Chris, the mopey mountain of muscles. We'll get to him soon! Take care, dear. :)_  
_Lollipop Lolli: I will definitely check out the two artists you recommended and let you know how I liked them, thanks! I'm super happy that you like Matt Corby, he's so good! :) I'm glad you like the chapters and I hope everything is going very well for you. :)_

_On a sentimental note, today (1/16) marks the day that I've been writing on here for a year. Yay! Here I am, still geeking out over Resident Evil and writing fan fiction. I'm not someone who let's myself know what I'm feeling often, but I've been going through a lot of anxiety and stress lately and writing has become that outlet for me, and everyone's nice comments and encouragement is always something I appreciate and take dearly. Thank you millions for geeking out with me!_

_-Sarai_


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